To Build a Life
by HecateA
Summary: A helpful guide by Sammy Valdez (who maybe should not be writing this at all), dedicated to Esperanza. Multi-chapter story dedicated to Empty Thoughts.
1. 1998

**So this story is dedicated to Empty Thoughts who requested it about seventeen and a half years ago... I've been working on it ever since, but what was going to be a oneshot took on a much bigger part in my notebooks and hard drive. Just to give you an idea: I'm writing page 64 right now... I've decided that I didn't want to keep the requester waiting anymore, and that the story would be too long of a oneshot anyways. So here is chapter one of To Build a Life. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own the following characters.**

**Dedication: To Empty Thoughts who waited a long time. Thank you for the idea, this was a lot of fun to write and work on :)**

* * *

** To Build a Life: 1998**

* * *

_ Dearest Esperanza,_

_ I haven't always been completely honest with you, and I think that to a certain extent that is a good thing. I am your Abuelo. You treasured me and respected me and even looked up to me despite the better judgement of everyone else (and maybe even yours). There are some things I couldn't tell you when you were growing up and trying things for yourself, and some things I wished I wasn't about to tell you even now that you're grown up._

_Now: that doesn't mean that I'm a liar. Not about everything anyways. You are an intelligent, ingenious, wonderful person that the world is lucky to have out and about, Anza. I love you completely and I have always believed in you. That much is true. I'm sorry if I dissapoint with my story, but__ I had to write this. For one, there are some things that I don't want to take down or up or wherever it is I'm going. I want to leave them right here. There are also some things that I think you'll need to hear for a few people's sakes, including Leo's because you and I both know that he isn't a regular kid, no matter that you didn't ever tell me or the family. Believe me: I know. _

_Two, you have had your life torn apart not very long ago. I acknowledge that. I'm sorry for that. You know about those two things, but I want to show you that I_ understand _that. I understand how you feel, how you felt, how you will feel and I want someone who won't be judging you to tell you that all of those feelings are okay. I've always been scared for you on that front Anza, because you are too avant-garde for most people and their response is to squash you like a bug._

_And, nearly more importantly: one day, to your son, I'll be a ghost, and I want him to know that ghost as a person more than anything right now. Not to mention that he's going to meet _my_ biggest ghost, and I think that he needs to know in advance what kind of striking and lovely person she is. He'll brace himself. He'll need it, trust me. _

_ It's complicated. This is sounding stupid and complicated and like the invented product of some kind of old-person syndrome I could possibly be developing. Looks like I'll be writing a lot of letters._

_ Love,_

_ Your Abuelo. _

* * *

Sammy drummed his pencil on the tray of his hospital bed. He could hardly manage his annoying habit- his hands were shaking so badly. Too badly, actually. It was like the universe was sending a not-so-subtle message to let him know that his time was coming.

"Screw you universe," he muttered under his breath. "I can read. A sign on paper would have been just fine, and it would have been simpler. I'm not going to have _you _stop me from doing this."

And so Sammy put the first letter in an envelope, nearly ripping it apart as he did so. He wrote her name on it, and scribbled a tiny number '1' in the corner where a stamp would be.

Then he pulled another piece of paper towards him and started writing.


	2. 1933

**June 2nd 1933**

Sammy wandered across the playground looking at all the people he knew and at all the ones who didn't- the new people who didn't live on his street and didn't go to the same park he did. It made them a bit less awesome, but he was sure that at least one of them was nice. Mama had told him to be nice to absolutely everyone on the same day.

One new people in particular was trying to say hello to people, but they looked at her and shrugged their shoulders and pretended she wasn't there. Their mamas hadn't told them to be nice, or maybe they'd just skipped the memo. So that new person in particular sat down alone in the corner near the fence.

Sammy thought that maybe she could be his new person.

Sorry- she could be his Hazel, that was her name, so she said.

* * *

_Anza,_

_Some things you don't forget. They don't have to be dramatic or big, or impressive and flamboyant. But they just _stick there, _in your memory like flies in a net, and they refuse to move out to make room for more important things like 'who was I supposed to call?' or 'did I have to buy milk or eggs?' (By the way my piece of advice for that particular dilemma is just to buy both because you never know). _

_I must've been six years old when I met Hazel Levesque, and I don't remember what I was wearing or whether or not I was excited for my first day at the new school- St. Agnes Academy for Colored Children and Indians. (which, by the way, I had a double scholarship to. Also try not to be too offended by the name, even though the fact that it was in a whole other era doesn't make it okay. Although I admit that I did show up to New Orleans to watch that school get teared down when it did). _

_But I do remember thinking that she was 'my' Hazel specifically, which was very socially unjust and on the arrogant side on behalf of five-year-old me. But I did. And I think that in a way, she'll always be my Hazel to me._

_Love,_

_Sammy _


	3. 1938

**Some of you will recognise the text in the following chapter, so I'm going to say it right away. It's a scene from The Mark of Athena that I rewrote in Sammy's perspective, with the same replies and words and everything.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**April 4th 1939**

"CUT!" Sammy cried holding the top of the dunce cap to his mouth.

Everyone froze and looked. Rufus was so startled, he backed away from Hazel in confusion. This meant that step one of Sammy's plan was a success.

A little boy snickered _hammy Sammy. _As if it was his fault that when he had a lunch –which was not often nowadays- they totally rocked the whole wide world because Mama was a magician in her kitchen.

He stormed up to Rufus, scrunching up his face to be angry. "No, no, no!" He announced waving his hands around. He was getting a crowd, which was how you made a big guy like Flathead Rufus nervous when you weren't the size of a grown adult male gorilla (like him).

Sammy turned to Hazel and she looked terrified by what he was doing as she slowly caught on. Hazel was a bright girl, it was just Sammy that confused the living out of her. Which was okay because Sammy confused the living out of Sammy. "Miss Lamarr, your line is…" Sammy looked around in exasperation. "Script! What is Hedy Lamarr's line?"

"_No please you villain!" _Someone called out.

"Thank you!" Sammy said. "Miss Lamarr, you're supposed to say, _No please, you villain! _And you, Clark Gable-"

Everyone burst out laughing. Hazel grinned. She _loved _Clark Gable as an actor and venerated Hedy Lamarr. The fact that she'd caught his special shout-out made her smile extra special in the sea of giggles and white teeth they were swarmed in.

"No!" one of the girls called. "Make him Gary Cooper!"

He should have done that so start with!

Rufus looked too confused to react accordingly, although he clearly didn't like what was going on. Tough luck: he shouldn't have picked on Hazel, who hadn't liked what'd been going on either.

"Right!" Sammy yelled. "Mr Cooper, you say, _Oh but the diamond is mine, my treacherous darling! _And then you scoop up the diamond like this!"

"Sammy, no!" Hazel protested as he did. But Sammy knew that Rufus' eye was caught by shiny things and that he was running out of time, so he made the stone disappear with one quick move.

He turned towards Rufus. "I want emotion! I want the ladies in the audience swooning! Ladies, did Mr Cooper make you swoon just now?"

"No," a bunch of girls yelled back.

"There, you see?" Sammy cried. "Now, from the top!"

He yelled into his cap. "Action!"

Rufus was just starting to get over his confusion. He stepped towards Sammy and said, "Valdez I'm gonna-"

The bell rang. Everyone headed inside and he pulled Hazel aside so that she'd stay out with him. The kindergartners who all venerated Sammy (long story involving a hamster, a substitute teacher and two hours spent shredding celery with a ruler) herded Rufus with them. That just felt like seeing the Munchkins defeat the Wicked Witch of the West.

Hazel looked like she was going to cry a bit, so Sammy knew that his job wasn't done. He dusted off her ruined lunch and presented it to her with a deep bow, as if it was a crown. "Miss Lamarr," he said.

"Sammy… Rufus is going to kill you."

"Ah, he knows better than to tangle with me."

He plopped the unfairly acquired dunce cap (it wasn't a lie calling Mrs. Leers fat! For a nun she was a bit late on the _thou shalt not bear false witness_) on top of his jockey hat. He stuck out his scrawny chest, like Superman would, and the cap fell off. As predicted, Hazel laughed.

"You are ridiculous."

"Why, thank you, Miss Lamarr."

"You're welcome, _my treacherous darling." _The words made Sammy's whole show waver, and his smile with. The air was charged. Suddenly he felt a whole new world of possibilities sneak into his head and heart. What if she'd actually ever call him her darling? Like, he hadn't dreamed of that or anything... but he wouldn't _mind _dreaming about that based on day-dreaming experience.

"You shouldn't have touched that diamond," Hazel said. "It's dangerous."

"Ah, come on," Sammy said. "Not for me!"

Queen Marie may have convinced Hazel that she was 'cursed' and somehow wrong and unnatural, but Sammy wasn't going to let her think that for a second. He wasn't going to let her think that she could possibly hurt anyone- especially not him, lest she start pushing him away like everyone else did to her. God, that would be horrible.

Hazel looked at him like she wanted to believe him. Well, she should!

"Bad things might happen. You shouldn't…"

"I won't sell it," Sammy said. "I promise! I'll just keep it as a token of your flavour."

Hazel forced herself to smile. In Sammy's book that was one step closer to actually smiling. "I think you mean _token of my favour." _

"There you are!" He said to encourage that smile. "We should get going. It's time for our next scene: _Hedy Lamarr nearly dies of boredom in English class."_

Sammy held out his elbow like a gentleman and Hazel punched him softly.

"Thanks for being there, Sammy." She said with a real smile this time.

"Miss Lamarr, I will _always _be there for you!" He said brightly.

* * *

_ Anza,_

_ I know you thought I was crazy as the days went by, and frankly I don't blame you. For one thing, delirium is associated with Parkinson's disease sometimes,and I know that you have been looking out for me and looking out to make sure my disease didn't stop me for the last couple of years. My sources aren't sharp and you like things to be sharp. This is magic and you won't like hearing me say it because you're a woman of science who has worked hard to establish herself as one. I don't know how I could possibly prove it to you, but I just know that that diamond was actually cursed. _

_I'm not a crazy old man making this up. This diamond changed my life Anza, and I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing to this day. Do we ever know? Do we ever get these answers? Is it a flash of light as we die when the truths of the world get whispered in our ears? Frankly Anza if it is, I don't know why we don't just jump to the part where the light flashes in our day-to-day lives. Because we have things to do, sure. People to see, of course. Places to see, always. But seriously Anza, will I ever know how wrong or right I was in my life? Will you? Will anyone? _

_The answer is probably no, and a part of me is praying that it's 'no' because I think that ignorance is bliss. But here's another question: why do we keep looking so hard for answers? Why do things have to be 'no' or 'yes'? If no omniscient force is going to come down from the sky and be like 'look friends this is the path of life' then why do we insist on life having a specific path? That diamond cursed me, you'll see. But without it I wouldn't have moved to Texas, met Mallory, had your dad or any other thing like that. _

_So long story short: life isn't a path. A lot of people have criticised you for your decisions, and a lot of people have been negative and mean to you. But you're not on a pre-built, perfect and fail-proofed path, Anza, you're wadding through mud. There is nothing that you are doing that is particularly harmful or destructive to the entire human race or to your future (as long as you're smart: still say no to drugs). You have done some things that are right and some things that are wrong. It doesn't matter what is what, just keep wadding through the mud. _

_ Sammy _


	4. 1940

**Thank you for such the warm first input on the first few chapters! I really appreciate all of your input, it was constructive and energising and exciting. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the two main characters of this story.**

* * *

**June 2nd 1940 **

Sammy still had hay in his hair when he got back from the stables that evening, and his mother was the first to point out and fret about it once he stepped into the house.

"You, you, you," she said clucking her tongue. She didn't like how Sammy worked for the sake of the family, and that was always an undertone to that familiar 'you, you, you'. But Sammy didn't like how he hadn't been allowed to launch a nation-wide manhunt and track down his sleazy, no good father the second he walked out on the family, so you know, things were even.

Mama kissed him on the forehead and wiped her hands on her apron.

"Go wash up before supper, _mijo," _she said her warm eyes twinkling. "I made your favourite."

Sammy smiled. "Thanks Mama."

"Also Hazel came by."

"She did?" He perked up.

"She most certainly did," Mama said with a little smile. "I told her you'd meet her at school after supper."

Sammy walked by the basement door and Mary and Lois, the twins, ran up the stairs playing tag with each other.

"Hey," Sammy said catching one of them. The snorts between the giggle gave her away as Mary.

"Sammy back!" Someone yelled from downstairs. It was Jeanette.

"Sure am Jeanie," he said. She walked up the stairs too, hands and feet both on the stairs since she was so little. Steve trailed her, making sure she didn't fall backwards like she was prone to doing. Even for a toddler Jeanette was a klutz. Lola walked down from the top floor of the house, a library book in her hands. She smiled at Sammy before cracking the paperback's spine and reading as she walked right by him. She was second oldest, twelve years old, followed by Steve who was ten, Mary and Lois who were six and Jeanette who was three.

"Don't go too far Lo, we're about to have supper." Mama called.

"Yeah, then Sam has a _date_." Mary said.

"What date?" Sammy asked.

"Now, now, Mary. It's not nice to tease." Mama called from the kitchen.

"Sammy has a date, Sammy has a date." Lois chanted.

Sammy plopped her down, blew a raspberry on her cheek, and went to sit at the kitchen table. Mama was just scooping soup into all the separate bowls when Sammy started wolfing it down.

"What are you, a vacuum cleaner?" She said. "Wait for everyone to be seated Sammy, that's proper manners."

Sammy sneaked another spoonful of soup in his mouth before his mother's stern look paralyzed him. Steve took his time to sit down, waltzing around the floor and finding a distraction left and right…

"Steven Valdez, cruelty doesn't have its place in my home. You come sit down here right now so that Sammy can go." Mama said waving her spoon at her youngest son.

After that it was a matter of seconds before Sammy was putting his dishes in the sink, flying out of the house and running to the park- the usual meeting spot for Hazel and him. It was the park of a private Catholic school, with the best structure in town and the tightest no-people-of-colour rules around. So maybe it wasn't a great idea for the Latino guy with illegally immigrated parents and a black girl to hang out there, but there was nobody to bug them. Usually. One way or another, the nuns were easy to run away froms, even without a good head start.

Hazel was sitting on one of the swings. She was wearing her favourite checked skirt and a white blouse with. Her hands were folded over her lap and she didn't look happy.

"You're early," Sammy called.

She looked up, startled. Sammy noticed something at her feet that caught the sunlight- some kind of jewel, but not a diamond this time.

"Yeah," Hazel said.

"Did you even go home?" Sammy said. "Have you had supper?"

Hazel swung herself, pushing on the sand with her heels. That meant no in secret-Hazel-code-speak-for-things-she-didn't-want -to-say-out-loud.

Uh oh. Queen Marie had royally _lost it _once again, apparently.

"Come on," Sammy said. "My mom makes plenty and there's no way in hell I'm letting you miss supper."

He walked up to her, took her hand, and led her away.

* * *

_Dear Anza,_

_You better recognise yourself in this next part, child. You. Better._

_Some people need to be taken care of in the world. Maybe it's their fault because they are incompetent twats waiting for natural selection to take over. Maybe it isn't. Some people just have a bad slice of life when God or whoever it is divides it all up. Sometimes they were made victims by bigger people who thought they were better. More often than not, those people are brilliant and beautiful and amazing. Sometimes those people are actually_ too good _to even ask for help. _Why_ do they get the rotten luck? Maybe because they're good enough people to stand it, deal with it, fight it and attract good people for help. I don't know, kiddo, I honestly don't. If I knew I'd change the world- or at least give a good slap in the head to the guy running this planet. But what I do know is that some of us have it better- like maybe you're a kid whose family is huge and happy and lives in a nice house. When that's you, it's your unwritten job to help out and do your part in the world. Volunteer, smile to people on the bus, make a casserole I don't know and I don't particularly care how. But you should. _

___Hazel was special because she didn't have the gravitational field that attracted nice people. She had completely the opposite, actually. But for a few years she had me, and I dared to hope that that was enough. Or at least better than nothing._

_I was lucky and unlucky in a way, to be alive during WWII. I saw and heard of all kinds of situations like that- big guys helping the little guys, and even little guys helping little guys. People hiding Jews in Europe, foster families taking children here- even in America. But I was also alive for Hiroshima and the concentration camps where soldiers would torture their prisoners more than necessary. It's a thin line, Anza. _

_You, on the other hand, are somewhere in between. And people are trying to help you Anza- but you won't necessarily let them. That's not automatically bad, your independence got you as far as university basically by itself, but sometimes you need someone to come babysit your kid for free or take over your shift at work. Stop being so stubborn Anza. I know that you're a collector of strips and straps of good and luck and opportunity and that so far you've been able to make your life coherent and fulfilling on your own: but please don't keep testing the universe. Sometimes you can drop by the workshop and say "I need one of you idiots to babysit tonight."_

_ And you know what Anza? If you're one of the really good people in the world; there's no way that nobody will agree with you on that._

_Sammy_


	5. 1941

**September 30th 1941**

Sammy had nearly missed the feel of the cane slamming down onto his hand over the summer.

Then he felt the fifth wack on his palm.

Never mind, no he hadn't missed it at all.

"If you don't start to behave better in school Mister Valdez, you're going to have a scar deep as the sea in that hand." Mrs. Brown said disappointedly.

"I'll tell people I got in a fight," Sammy shrugged. "I'll make it work; it'll be badass."

The word slipped out all by itself. He worked so hard not to swear in front of the little ones at home… School was his release. This had been pre-destined and was bound to happen. She held out her hand again, and Sammy handed his back sighing.

This scar was going to come sooner than expected.

* * *

_Dear Anza,_

_You are living in an era where corporal punishment is illegal._

_You have absolutely no reason at all not to cause trouble._

_(But you didn't hear that from me)._

_Love,_

_Abuelo_


	6. 1941, October

**October 2nd 1941**

Hazel held her backpack over her shoulder as she walked, gloomy and sad. Sammy was stumped. If Rufus had been bugging her, as per usual, he could just put on a show. Put on a show and scoop up the diamond that was left- like he'd done back when they were in the third grade. But now it was just him and Hazel and when that happened he didn't know what to do. When Hazel was sad it made him sad. Which was quite unfortunate actually, because Hazel was often sad... Now _that _was the unfortunate part.

"Hey," he said. "Did you hear that the circus was in town?"

"What?" She frowned. "N…"

Sammy didn't let her finish. He just broke out into the 'ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta' song, dancing around her and snapping his fingers.

"Sammy!" She said.

"I am the circus!" He didn't stop. She was smiling. "Sammy stop it, we're in _public." _

He still didn't stop and started imitating the goofy, big steps of a clown. People were looking at them now. Sammy started dancing too. She was hiding her face in her hands, but Sammy still saw her smile shining right on through her spread fingers. It shone so bright when she wanted it to, Sammy could spot it from the moon.

He dropped to his knees in front of her, spreading his arms like 'ta-dah!'

She was laughing now.

* * *

_Anza,_

_I know that most of your life you've had to look sharp and professional to impress. _

_I have never had that requirement placed on me however, ergo my making a very important discovery._

_You know that you love someone when you're willing to look like an absolute clown in front of the whole entire world for the sake of a smile you know the world will probably destroy soon._

_This is the day that I realised that I loved Hazel Levesque. I even remember what time it was when we were walking home: 3:45. I got home at 4:00, and we stopped by her house at 3:50. But I don't remember the weather or what homework was due or what we were wearing. I just know that that was the day I knew. _

_Sammy_


	7. 1941, November

**November 2nd 1941**

Hazel hung her coat on the rocking chair's back, as per usual. They were going to sneak upstairs, grab the keys to the stables and go sneak a ride, but Lois and Mary and Jeanette caught them.

"Sammy and Hazel!" Lois cheered.

Jeanette scrambled over to Hazel and hugged her legs. Hazel laughed and stroked her hair.

"Hi Jeanie! Mary, Lois, don't I get hugs?"

_Operation Autumn had failed. Repeat: Operation Autumn had failed._

The twins rushed over to hug Hazel tightly, and soon Hazel was dragged off downstairs to play with their few toys and even the imaginary ones. Hazel had a gift for remembering the names of dolls that didn't really exist, and holding them carefully and miming spooning food into their mouths… It was pretty amazing. Sammy didn't really mind watching them play.

Hazel was still wearing her butter yellow school dress as the girls swarmed and milled about her. It made her skin look gorgeous and her eyes shine. There was probably a better word like 'accented' or 'set off'. Her skirt was spread out around her, as if she was just a figurine atop a cake. His sisters clung to her arms and passed her imaginary toys and Hazel knew exactly how to react and what to make do.

He smiled. He honestly didn't mind playing with the little girls after all.

But if he could have gone riding with Hazel instead, god damn he would have…


	8. 1941, December 14th

**December 14th 1941**

"Hey," Hazel called. He nearly dropped the cupcake he'd worked hard to get his hands on with the rationing starting up (he was unreasonably proud of that cupcake, even if it wasn't his only birthday present to Hazel; he figured that he had a whole cruel world to make up for). He managed to hide it behind his back and spin around to face her.

"Hiya Hazel," he said.

"I finished saddling Spinner." Hazel said. She frowned. "You're taking forever. Are you okay?"

"Yeah!" He said. "I'm okay, I'm fine, actually. I am _so fine_ Hazel, you have no idea how fantastic everything is like, the weather is just topping everything off..."

Hazel lifted an eyebrow.

"Why don't you just go ahead?" Sammy offered.

Hazel grinned slyly. "You know what that means. You'll never catch me."

_Hazel Levesque, I would never catch up with you one way or another..._

"Oh, we'll see." Sammy said. Now he'd thrown her a challenge, and the surprisingly prideful girl accepted and led her horse out. She was always trying to prove to the world that she was a good person, and so a more attainable and separate challenge probably looked very good and executable to her.

Sammy breathed and managed to hide the cupcake in a saddle pocket after wrapping it in his math homework to keep the icing from smudging.

* * *

Hazel walked home and he leaned against the stables watching her. There was a bounce in her step, like there should be on birthdays, and her hair was still tucked behind her ear. That's where he'd put it when he kissed her on the cheek.

_Nailed it, _he thought to himself. Salsa, mamba, whatever those super fidgety dances from the south were called- Sammy's guts were doing it.

"Valdez," someone called. He went back inside. The neatly dressed rich white stable owner handed Sammy the envelope with his pay.

"There. Unless you want it in pennies to pay your morning pint of milk at school…"

"This is perfect sir," he smiled.

"I still don't understand why you needed this earlier."

"I've got something to buy for someone," Sammy said explaining it as shortly as possible. "Thank you so much!"

He clutched the envelope. Now he just had to sprint to the shop before it closed, grab Hazel's birthday present…

As he ran off he heard Mr Neilson cry out; "And remember! My stables are _not _a kissing booth for any pretty young girl you stumble across!"

"She's not just _any _girl, sir!" He cried over his shoulder as he ran.

* * *

_Hey Anza,_

_So yeah, now you see what a slick bastard I was as a child. (And probably still would be if I put some effort into it... Now I wonder... I'm just kidding Anza, I wouldn't do that to you and your cousins.) _

_But seriously, I didn't run after Hazel like Mr Neilson thought. I kind of stood there and was the friend she needed until I realised that she was running after me too. Then I started sprinting like a maniac (and ending up running right into a post and killing myself against the sidewalk, but you know…) _

_Not a lot of people would do that because_

_a) __They believe that by being nice to a person, the universe is required to repay them in favours like eternal love, glory, immortality, riches, fame, et cetera. And when the universe doesn't cooperate (which is one of its tendencies) they get mad. Like this "friend zone" or whatever the kids are talking about nowadays, I don't even know, I'm too old for this changing-vocabulary. Seriously, don't do that. That's the dog-does-tricks-for-treat mentality right there, and it's a very bad way to think. I sure as summer hope that I didn't let your mother raise you into that mind frame. _

_b) __They start doubting whether they're putting their patience where it has to be. I can nearly guarantee you that it will Anza. Human beings have the great power to read each other and form significant and deep bonds with one other. If you see someone and have a good gut feeling, then by all means establish some kind of relationship with that person. I decided, at the age of six, that Hazel Levesque was a good person. I still know that I'm not wrong. _

_Moral of some rambling: don't doubt your first instincts about someone if they just pop up like a flash of lightning. Those instincts can be wrong, but not often. And if you're right? You've probably just found somebody very special. _

_Sammy _


	9. 1941, December 15th

**December 15th 1941**

He waited.

And waited.

And waited.

But the only thing that came out of Hazel's building was the smell of melted butter, baking bread and pastries, and jazz music. No Hazel, not even a Queen Marie or client.

He didn't have no fancy watch to check, but he was pretty sure that he was late for school by this time. But that was weird because Hazel was never late, and usually she'd thrown him a paper airplane from her window if she _was _going to be late for some reason, or home sick.

Finally the baker, an Italian man named Carlos, walked out of the bakery doing some weird hand gesture that would probably be rude if Sammy had any kind of basis on Italian culture.

"You looking for the secret recipe!" He said.

"What? No, I…"

"Scram, son, scram!" He said. "_Mama, _you rascals are everywhere! Stop looking at the building and go to school!"

"I'm waiting for a friend," Sammy said.

"Who?"

"Hazel Levesque," Sammy tried. "She lives in the apartment above…"

"The witch's daughter?"

"She ain't no witch's daughter, you lousy old fat man!" Sammy said.

"Rude and rude!" He vented. "If I were a Hazel Levesque I would run away from you!"

Sammy's stomach knotted. His hand reached into his pocket. He'd gotten her a present last night. A bracelet with beads that were plastic and aluminum–no jewels, just something pretty she should have that wouldn't have diamonds or gold or any other thing she wouldn't like.

"I bet she was running from you. She could have just walked though, I don't think those little legs can take that big fat belly of yours anywhere quick."

"You brat!" The baker said. "Apologise! They said come to America for better life, not rude little Mexican boy. She's not even here anymore. She's gone."

"Gone? No way, she can't be gone, she's Hazel. Hazel can't be gone." Sammy said.

"Went far away," the baker said. "Apartment is vacant. I'd do the same if I had to deal with an insufferable little brat like you every day, maybe that crazy woman did have lick of sense after all."

He stormed back into the building before Sammy could do anything else.

Sammy was trembling with anger and resentment and confusion and maybe even… hurt… She hadn't warned him? She'd just... He didn't understand... That was the part that hurt the most maybe, because he was so used of knowing and understanding and being on the in with Hazel.

"I bet your food is nasty!" He yelled at the baker's back before taking off running to God knows where.

* * *

_ Dearest Anza,_

_ Now you know why I don't celebrate Christmas much. It's in December, and December just isn't a good time for me. _

_It hasn't been for a long, long time. _

_ Sammy _


	10. 1942

**January 1st 1942**

"And?" Mama asked when the door slammed behind Sammy. The little ones weren't swarming around him, so she must have told them something about leaving him alone, which he appreciated.

"No luck?" Mama asked again when Sammy was quiet. He dropped on the nearest couch.

He'd taken to the habit of sneaking into Hazel's old apartment day after day to see if there was anything to see. He climbed up the wall in the back using some very thin footholds in the form of a bad brick job, and the gutter. He got to the window, looked inside, squinted, saw nothing, and then went back down. He hadn't missed the ritual for a day. Not Christmas, not New Year's, he wouldn't miss it if the apocalypse happened right there and then. He'd push the falling sky right off his head and climb that goddamned gutter.

Mama walked into the living room and sat next to him.

"Sammy, _mijo, _we've known for a long time that her mother wasn't… well, wasn't completely… not a very good…"

"Stop," he said. His voice was scrappy and choked, like metal grinding against metal.

"Oh, Sammy…" Mama said. "I know that you're scared and I know that you want to know where Hazel is and how you can talk to her and help her out."

"You think she needs help?" Sammy asked.

"You do," Mama said. "No other reason you'd be sleeping as badly as you are. Anywho _mijo, _you can't. She's a friend who moved away. You can't keep going back to her house like that."

"But you can keep looking for Dad whenever we're out in public?" He snapped.

Mama froze. "Sammy Michael-"

"Sorry Mama," Sammy said getting up and storming out, back upstairs to the room he shared with Steve. "I just thought that maybe _you'd _understand out of all people."

* * *

_Dearest Anza,_

_ The best kind of advice is the one that you completely refuse to listen to at first. The kind you discard and yell at and totally hate when you hear it for the first time. The kind that makes you hate the person who said it- the one who dared bring the idea into the light. _

_But Anza, I tell you, it's the best advice because it's the one you desperately need to start your life again and live normally once more. I didn't know that when my mother told me that at age fifteen, and I didn't want to even think about accepting her advice at age fifteen. And I guess, in a way, I never really did because Hazel was never really the friend who moved away for me. She was always Hazel who moved away, and that I think you understand because you must've felt that way when you lost your _bebito's_ father._

_ Now you also know why I was so mad when I heard that Leo wasn't going to have a father around. You told me that he'd come around when Leo needed him and that this was arranged and agreed with between the two of you- and I believed every word you told me on the matter, Anza. I really did. But I hate people who walk out of things, no matter what that thing is- family, work, promise... And I've dealt with one of every kind._

_Now you understand why I wanted to be a good _bisabuelo, _why I was so protective of you when you told the family Leo was coming. You might also understand why I was mad at myself every time I got hospitalised._

_ Sammy_


	11. 1942, March

**March 5th 1942**

"Sammy, I'm going to have to sell the house." Mama blurted when she sat down in front of him.

Sammy choked on his water. He was having a late supper, having worked late at the stables, and only Mama was at the table with him. And as per usual, when there was bad news, she knew no other way to share it than to drop it like a land mine.

"_What?" _He asked.

"Well, I think it's pretty clear your father isn't coming back." She said. She blushed deeply. "I can't work more shifts, and I refuse to leave you alone with the little ones more than I already do. The taxes are too high, I… I found a nice apartment that's still not far from school. It's closer to the stables even. I…"

"Mama!" Sammy said. "This house is our home!"

"Homes can be changed, _mijo._" Mama said. "You just need the right people there."

Sammy didn't want to hear anything about it and he stormed upstairs to his room, kicked out Steven, and locked himself in, despite knowing that it was like kicking his mom under the belt.

She'd basically just done the same to him, though.


	12. 1942, June

**July 30th 1942**

Uncle Warren's truck was loaded with the last load of things.

"Go take a break, sport." He said clapping on Sammy's shoulder. "Ya did good. We'll take off and join Helen and your siblings in the new apartment in five, kay?"

His arms felt like jelly from all the loading he'd just done.

"Sure," Sammy said. "I just want to… say goodbye first."

"It's a house, sport."

"Yeah I know." Sammy said. "It's just…"

"The last place you saw your Dad," Uncle Warren said. A hand squeezed Sammy's shoulder. "I get it son."

That wasn't it at all. That remark actually made Sammy feel slightly better about leaving the house.

But he didn't disagree with Uncle Warren so that the later would give him peace and quiet. Sammy sat on the porch, and slipped his Swiss army knife out of his pocket while Uncle Warren wasn't looking. He got to work on the step of the house, working furiously and quickly, mentally torturing himself with the concept on how much Mama would kill him if she ever found out that he'd been vandalising a house that wasn't even theirs anymore.

He'd meant to write _Hazel I'm still here _for her to see if she ever came back, came looking for him, and found strange people behind the blue door. He wanted her to know that he hadn't randomly walked off, even if she'd disappeared.

But he didn't have time to finish before Uncle Warren started honking. His scratchy writing only left _Hazel _written in the porch's wood, and not even nicely. It was scratchy and rude and cruel as a scar.

Like the whole Hazel affair, to be honest.

* * *

_Dear Anza,_

_Change is hard. And most of the time it doesn't even get offered to you. Sure, sometimes you're like a hitchhiker and you get to choose what you want to do and where you want to go. But sometimes you just get run over, or dragged into the trunk of a car and driven off to the country. _

_It's tough medicine to swallow, and it's worst when you feel like by changing yourself you're changing somebody else's destiny too. I was scared that by moving, I'd miss Hazel when she came back to New Orleans (which by the way, don't hold your breath, she never did). I was still holding on to that house for dear life at the time. My fingers were bleeding but I was still holding on. I think that that's why humans leave marks all over the place- because we're afraid to be forgotten or to forget somewhere along the line of change. We don't want to miss out on anything, and so we write books, draw, paint, dance, sing, make music, build things, invent, sculpt, write letters (that may or may not be addressed to our granddaughters- you can't teach an old dog new tricks Anza) and whatever else there is to do. Sometimes we make art. Sometimes we make scars. And sometimes it's really hard to tell which one we've accomplished after all. That's the most dangerous one Anza- when you don't know._

_Because then you might never learn not to, and you might keep doing it._

_Sammy_


	13. 1942, November

**November 11st 1942**

A soldier handed Sammy back his papers.

"Problem, officer?" He asked.

"Kid, I'm doing you a favour," he said. "Get out of here now, and I'll destroy the evidence that you ever even _tried _to lie on your application forms."

"I didn't lie," Sammy said although he knew that it was hopeless now.

"You're sixteen, kid," the soldier said. "Give it another year if your parents consent."

Sammy's stomach shrunk.

"Two if they don't. Then you can enroll legally."

"I'm old enough." Sammy insisted.

"Don't make this difficult, son."

"Sir, I need this. I need to get away from New Orleans."

"And go to Europe, son? Whatever you're going through here is comfort compared to the battlefield. Go home to it." The officer said. He dropped Sammy's papers in his lap and walked off. There was nothing more to be done.

* * *

_Anza, _

_ Another thing you need to notice is that people will always assume they know what's best for you. They assume that they know what's going on in your life. For example that man? He didn't know that my best friend –also happening to be the girl I liked and was starting to think I must love- had just disappeared from the surface of the earth, that in my nightmares she was sinking under something as black and poisonous as petrol. _

_He didn't know that my little sisters and my mother had been in a car accident, which I can't even write a letter to you about because it still hurts so badly. It just so happened that that new neighbourhood we lived in had a very drunk man who drove very often. _

_That man didn't know that at home, I was being raised by an aunt called Mable and trying to cheer up Steven and Lois even though the first had found out that he was, for all intents and purposes, an orphan on the same day his girl had slapped him in front of the whole school, and the second now had no twin sister to finish her sentences for her (Lois didn't talk for about two years after Mary died). _

_ Besides it seemed like a completely unfair load of bull that a whole bunch of kids could get away with enrolling when they were under fifteen and that I couldn't get my sorry butt in a uniform when I was one year under the required age._

_ Life was a battlefield as it was. Was it that bad that I wanted to be on a battlefield that would change the world instead? Does the battlefield matter depending on what's going to come out of a victory or a loss, or is every fight equal?_

_ Sammy _

* * *

As Sammy walked back from the enrolment center defeated, he took the scenic route. He didn't _try_ to avoid Lois or Steven, not even Aunt Mable. But sometimes all the grief contained in the house was impossible to handle. Sammy felt it seeping through his skin, zooming across his body through his blood, go in and out of his lungs with the air he breathed. Sometimes he had to avoid everything. He might be the man of the family now, the bread-winner, but he had to.

He walked in a sketchy district. There was an open garage door and as Sammy walked by it, he heard coughing.

He slowed his pace and looked inside the room. It was a workshop, with a beater parked in it and tools hanging on the walls right alongside red cabinets with open doors. A man wearing a greasy apron was red in the face and bent in two over an awkwardly made wooden table littered with tools and marked with cuts and pencil notes and paint.

"Sir?" Sammy asked. The man's eyes brightened in recognition and he waved his arms around. He was choking.

Sammy ran inside and gave him huge slaps on the back and eventually he spat out a piece of what Sammy assumed was a sandwich. The man panted heavily.

"Thanks son," he said. "Oh if that doesn't cut your appetite I don't know what does."

He shook the table until the sandwich and its bit fell in the trash can.

Sammy was looking around the shop. All these tools all had parts to play and uses, he was sure. It'd be amazing to know all of them and how to do it all. He looked at the car's motor. All the complicated wiring…

"Like my shop, son?" The man asked. "Name's Mallory. Gerald Mallory."

"Sammy Valdez," he said. "And yeah; I do."

Mallory shrugged. "If you want to hang out here, be my guest. I owe you one. Actually kid, need a job?"

"Yes," Sammy said automatically.

"I could have you clean up this dump," Mallory said. "I could pay you decently too, there aren't many mechanics around with all the men overseas so business is booming."

"That's not important sir," Sammy said still hypnotised by all the tools. "Just teach me how to do what you do."

* * *

_ Anza,_

_ You learned to love tools because your father came home smelling like grease with black smeared across his arms and face since you were a little girl. Maybe it was in your blood- it had to be for all the dedication you put into tools and mechanics. Your whole life, I'm assuming. __Well I learned tools from a sweaty man who nearly died choking on a sandwich. You always thought that that was a joke and that I'd just learned everything at school. Well, here's the story to prove that it's not._

_And a lesson for you: when one door closes, another is open and has a choking man who'll offer you a job inside it. Always go save that man. _

_ Sammy _


	14. 1945

**1945**

_Dear Anza,_

_ All you get for this part is a letter, because usually I can tell good stories but not about this. Not about the War._

_ Of course I quit my job with Mallory as soon as I turned seventeen to go enroll like all the other stupid young people out there. This time they couldn't turn me down. I was in the last two years or so of World War II and I wished I could have told you more about it, so that I could make the war more than a chapter in those boring history books they make you memorise, but I was just as terrified about the war when you were a kid than I was when I was in Europe. _

_ I was a mechanic. I fixed trucks and tanks, cars and motorcycles and just about anything that needed fixing. Even a plane once –now there's a story I wished I had had the courage to tell! Even a plane… _

_ There are stories I'm telling you now that I wouldn't tell you when I was alive, but stories about the war… some people like to talk. It relieves them. Well I like keeping them inside and digesting the statistics and memories. I can tell you some things in writing though. For example your father? He was named for a friend I had who died. And the two scars I have? One on my hand is from school; the one on my shoulder is shrapnel that hit me while I was fixing a truck in the battlefield. _

_ I'm not sure what lesson this letter's going to give you, Anza. Too many things were learned during that war for me. Things that could have been learned an easier, bloodless way. Well, never mind that. There is no easy way to learn that people are cruel, that your body can push until you die, that you will never stop losing in your life until you stop having things to lose- at which point you're in a state of permanent loss anyways-, that things are fragile, that you're not the hero you wished you were because heroism is freaking hard and not always worth it. Ah, here's one you'll commune with. Not everything can be fixed. That is a hard one to learn for our family, but our family's the kind of family who needs to learn it. _

_ When VE Day came I was as relieved as the next guy to come home. _

_ I went back to working for Mallory full time with another guy, Ross Winchester- who was an ass. Mallory was getting old and he was losing his touch and the flexibility in his limbs- like I am right now. Then Ross Winchester got fired -because as previously discussed he was an ass- and it was just me. I made enough money to help Mabel, who was nearly too old to work, and my siblings running. I made enough money to be happy. I wasn't a prince or anything, but I wasn't a popper which was exactly what most people had thought I was gonna become the minute someone stopped paying for a roof above my head and some food to go in my stomach. _

_ Another lesson. You can get what you want in life. I know that you don't believe that right now, the colour of your skin and the shape of your body is telling everyone not to hire you in the engineering business. And Anza, I don't think that that's fair and you know it, but I've never openly sworn about it, have I? Because that's how it is in my head Anza: swear, swear, swear, why Anza, swear. And every time that rant pops up in my head I let it run for a while because you're my granddaughter and so of course I want the best for you; but it never lasts long, I eventually col it. Because I know that one day you'll get what you want. If the mess of a man that I was back in '45 could, then so can you my beautiful Anza. You can fix that; I'm telling you._

_ Sammy _


	15. 1946

**Additional chapter because I hit page 100 in _How to Build a Life! _Well, 101 now because I kind of flew right by the digits. So yippee! To celebrate I give you a pretty tragic chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of Sammy Valdez and Hazel Levesque.**

* * *

**February 3rd 1946**

_Okay Anza, listen up._

_ This letter isn't a cute story about my life, or an anecdote or nothing. It's a warning. Red alert, red alert, danger, danger, hit the decks. Listen up: When you treasure something, don't you ever let it go. Not for other dreams, not for money, not for chance… just never do it._

_ You know what I let go of? The diamond Hazel gave me when we were kids. The one she said was cursed. _

_ For a while it didn't look cursed. When I was a kid, it didn't. I brought it over to Europe with me, kept it in my shoe for the whole war, and I came out of it alive. It looked like a normal diamond. It looked gold and green, like the money and coins I needed for my chance to get out of New Orleans. I'd decided that that was my dream: I had to get out of the place that had served as a hub for my losing people. Texas seemed like a good idea. To be honest with you, I closed my eyes and stuck my finger on a spot on a map of the USA and settled on Houston (I'd really like to tell you that it was a bit more meaningful, but we both know that I'm not the kind of person who does things so that one day they can be meaningful and poetic). _

_And so I made that diamond gold and green by selling it and buying myself a suitcase and a train ticket (People think I'm kidding- but I legitimately did not own a suitcase at the time). Once I did own one, I filled it up, hid the money I had left in a sock that I hid in the inside pocket, and took the train away from New Orleans. It was an easier getaway than joining the army and standing in the midst of a bloodbath in Europe. _

_ Well Anza, there is more than meets the eye in about twenty million percent of the world, and so here was my curse. It wasn't eternal ugliness, damnation (well I don't know that for a fact yet but I should find out pretty soon), infertility or anything you see in the movies. I never saw Hazel again. She never told me what the curse did; she just said that it was horrible. And to me, that is horrible. I never had her word on it, but I swear that that's what it did. I'd swear it over my dead body. _

_ Another lesson? Okay. We all define what horrible is based on what is horrible to us._

_Love,_

_ The Damned _


	16. 1946, March

**Additional chapter because I hit page 125 in _How to Build a Life! _Well, 126 because you know me I physically cannot stop writing when it is time to sleep. So yippee! To celebrate I give you a not-tragic chapter this time around.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the character Sammy Valdez.**

* * *

**March 11st 1946**

He knocked on the flat's door and it opened right away. A guy was rubbing his eyes.

"You Rodrigue Bello?" Sammy asked.

"You a cop?" The guy asked. His hair was stuck in a cow lick; he was tall and lean.

Sammy frowned. "No." Did cops come here often?

"Come in," Rodrigue said sounding sleepy. Sammy closed the door behind him and sat down on a chair that Rodrigue pointed out. The apartment had a kitchen table and some chairs, a kitchen and three closed doors. That was it.

"Beer?"

"No thanks."

"Good I'm out. What brings you here?" Rodrigue asked.

"I'm new in town and I saw your add for a room to rent."

"Oh. Welcome to Houston," Rodrigue said. "I'll rent you the room, sure. I'd just like to know what you do first."

"I was a mechanic in New Orleans." Sammy said.

"Why'd you leave?"

"Couldn't stand the place anymore."

"Fair enough. I'm from Chicago, I know all about not standing where you're from. Have you got a job here yet?"

"No."

"It'll come, this place needs mechanics left and right. I can hook you up, actually."

"You work in the field?" Sammy asked.

"Sure. My dad was an engineer and everything," Rodrigue said. "I can probably get you a job. And even if not, you look cool. You can have that room over there." He was pointing to a closed door. "If I check it in three days and there aren't any bodies in it, it's yours."

* * *

_Anza,_

_ Here is a good lesson. A happy one. _

_ If something needs to happen, fate will twist itself and plot against you, screw your expectations and make you take sketchy detours into dark alleys (I'm not saying go into dark alleys) until it'll lead you to that one thing._

_ The first step for me to reach some kind of cosmic doo-wee-doo destiny was becoming the roommate of the guy whose first words to me were 'are you a cop?'_

_ Sammy _


	17. 1946, March 12

**I had a crisis yesterday upon coming home and _not_ having my USB key on me. That was stressful, plus my last back-up was done in March. 2012... Anyways, the librarians at my school found it and kept it so WOOHOO! I spent the day volunteering at a volunteering competition and eating free pizza and playing hide-and-seek on my free time. I'm in a good mood so have a chapter.**

**Dedication: Librarians who save USB keys. You rock. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own the character Sammy Valdez.**

* * *

**March 12th 1946**

"Hey boss," Rodrigue said as they walked through the auto service shop. It was big and industrialized, owned by Ford and all. This was clearly purely for business, unlike Mallory's shop in New Orleans.

A man spun on his heels to face them.

"Good morning," a well-built man who Rodrigue had said was named Charles King, replied. Rodrigue had told Sammy everything he needed to know about this guy yesterday. Charles King looked up from his clipboard. "Hey. You found a stray."

"Actually sir, he's my roommate." Rodrigue said. "His name's Valdez. He was a mechanic in New Orleans and he's looking for a job. I've known him for a while and he's always been a good guy. I thought that since Colby was retiring I could help you out."

"Sure," Mr Kind said. "What the hell. Valdez, have you got yourself a degree in mechanics of some sort?"

Sammy faltered.

"Yes," he said.

"From which school?"

"Same as Rodrigue," Sammy said. "That's why we're roommates."

Mr King's face split in a grin. "Any graduate from Houston Community is a friend of mine. Good people there, good people. Did you have Mr Bell in class?"

"Oh yeah," Sammy nodded. "He was a great teacher."

Mr King grinned some more. "Yeah, it was a shame that he passed away."

"I couldn't get over it," Sammy said.

Ah, the smell of pure, unadulterated lies in the morning.

This was his preferred strategy when he didn't know what the hell was going on.

"Do you have it with you?"

"Oh, no," Sammy said. "It was destroyed."

"How?"

"In a fire," Rodrigue jumped in. It was a horrible lie and Sammy was ashamed to be a part of it.

"Yeah, it's why I tried to find a new job," Sammy said. "'Cause I lost everything, so why not restart in a brand new, fresh place like this? I was also a mechanic with the army."

King nodded. "Well, you can shadow Rodrigue and help him out for the day. If I like what I see, you can come back tomorrow. Now if you'll excuse me boys, I've got a meeting to attend."

Once Mr King had left Rodrigue dragged Sammy along. He met a whole bunch of people- Chuck, Pete, Norris, José, Bert- and had an overall nice day. Fixing cars and trucks- it wasn't as if Sammy wasn't in his element. Plus he got along really well with Rodrigue (which turned out really nice because Sammy had started getting attached to the extraordinarily comfy bed he slept on). They had the same lame senses of humour, and had similar background. They'd worked a lot as kids, he had a sister too...

They ended up not having supper because there wasn't any food in the apartment and nobody wanted to go out. Sammy didn't remember what the hell they'd done to make the time fly, but before going to bed Rodrigue turned to him.

"Hey- earlier in the shop, with King, how did you know where I'd graduated from?"

"I didn't," Sammy said slowly shaking his head.

Rodrigue grinned. "I like you."

"I like you too," Sammy said. "We're pretty good together."

"We complement each other's bullshitting skills rather well," Rodrigue agreed.

* * *

_ Anza,_

_ This is not a lesson I ever gave you before because as your _abuelo _I was supposed to make sure that you were raised well and virtuously, but here it is: if you have enough confidence to do it, you can get away with anything. _

_ Literally. _

_ I got free soup for a year to feed both Rodrigue and I by pretending to be the bastard nephew of the president of a soup company once. It worked, and that one ditzy grocery store downtown would still be handing me out free cans of soup if I wasn't sick and tired of the metallic after taste of it (seriously: stay away from Slurpy's Soup, I repeat: stay away from Slurpy's Soup). Confidence is something you need if your life is in a world where you won't get your way on the principles of justice and equality- Read: ours. I think you have it covered though. _

_Just a reminder: that store downtown? Probably still ditzy. Free food? All yours. _

_Sammy _


	18. 1948

**Hooray for hitting page 150 on the Word document! Hooray, hooray, hooray!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the character and the loose outline of this story.**

* * *

**July 24th 1948**

"You know what would be cool?" Rodrigue said as they walked home.

"Dragons who blew fresh air instead of fire?" Sammy asked. It was a ridiculously hot day, so in his defense that wasn't a bad guess.

"No," Rodrigue said. "_Not _having to deal with new bosses every time the big-shot corporation decide that the old one's hair gel is wearing out. _Not _having to deal with extreme budget cuts that fall on our pay checks."

"Basically you want to build yourself a raft, grow your hair long, and sail the seven seas living off of fish and the product of a water purifier instead of functioning in society- is what I'm hearing," Sammy said.

"No, I mean, I _like _fixing cars." Rodrigue said. "I just want to… I'm just sick of being a number or a file in a corporation's office, you know? I'm helping my sister get through university, I'm helping my mother pay her health insurance, and there are no possible cuts that can be brought to my coffee budgets without permanent and devastating effects. If I get any poorer, I'm screwed."

"That's how it is anywhere with a job Ro," Sammy said.

"Shouldn't be," he said.

"Yeah, but where are you going to find a place like the one you're describing?" Sammy said.

"I don't know. Someone should invent it," Rodrigue said walking along. They kind of stopped and looked at each other.

"Someone really should," Sammy said.

"Like really," Rodrigue nodded. They walked again for a bit until Sammy froze, and Rodrigue soon followed suit.

"Could we?"

"Nah, we couldn't," Rodrigue said shaking his head.

"You're right, that's crazy talk." Sammy said. "We're two little Mexican guys with horribly senses of humour. It ain't gonna work."

They walked along.

"If we did though- just say that we did- I think that 'Bello's Auto' has a nice ring to it."

"Bello?" Sammy said. "Hey, what about my name, you inconsiderate jerk we ain't married!"

* * *

_Dear Anza,_

_You must be pissing yourself laughing since you know how the future goes down. _

_There's a kind of mythology centered around how the workshop came into existence. Your father's preferred story was to say that it was like the birth of a star, helium and hydrogen messing around in space until _poof _a ball, a true symbolical beacon, of light and gas was born (Rodrigue likes to correct him and say that that was how _he _was born). Your uncle said that we won the lottery and lost a bet about how we should spend our prize money. Your aunt said that we just planted a nail and watered it for a long time. I think it's Jay who insists that too many babies were born on the full moon and it sent shock waves of disturbance throughout the earth, thus splitting the ground and letting the shop emerge. _

_But that story up there is how it really happened Anza, Rodrigue just got pissed about corporate industries who placed profit before employees and clients, ran his mouth, and had me running my mouth too. _

_Of course, later plans were made. I'd say that about 40% of those plans were made on late nights with alcohol and/or (suually 'and') sorry squashes on the front of Rodrigue's love life was involved (it's honestly a goddamned miracle that we managed to keep that shop running, honestly Anza I think the miracle of it might convert an atheist). Sometimes those plans took shape in the form of Rodrigue jotting things down on restaurant napkins and bringing back a random, satiric logo; sometimes it was me doodling on the corner of the newspaper while I was riding the train to New Orleans for a visit. But eventually the tides turned in our favour, we dropped the alcohol (a bit), and got serious about planning._

_But that's how the shop that changed my life and your father and yours came up, Anza. Some little guys who were tired of getting pushed around because they didn't have a big guy defending them. So just remember: there's always a way to change the world if there's something (hint: there always is something) wrong with it._

_Sammy_


	19. 1949

******My puppy's new favourite toy is a plastic tyrannosaurus rex. Literally I've been watching a tiny puppy slap down a t-rex with a sweep of his paw and then fiercely pounce all day. I'm in a good mood. Here you go.**

* * *

**March 12 1949**

Lois opened the door and she tackled him.

"Sammy!" She said. "I didn't know you were coming!"

"What would I do?" Sammy said. "Miss my little sister's eighteenth birthday? Now why would I do that?"

Lois squealed and hugged him tightly.

"I'm so happy to see you!"

"I can see that," Sammy said. "But I don't think you'd be happy to see me on Mabel's front steps choked to death, now would you?"

Lois let him go beaming. She put a hand on his cheek. "Are you okay? You look pale. And tired. Oh my god, is it because you took the train? Did you take the train for me?"

"Of course," Sammy said. "I'd invent a Hullengerbadger to travel through lava to come see you, sis."

He kept an arm around her, grabbed his bag and walked into the house.

"Is that Sammy?" Aunt Mabel's deep voice rang from the kitchen.

"No ma'am, Lois here just let a burglar in. I'll take all your money if possible, but I'll definitely need whatever smells so god damned good."

"Hey!" Mabel yelled. "You're losing your manners with that language, boy! I don't want none of it in my house, do you understand me? Do you hear me?"

"Yes ma'am." He answered.

"I can't believe you came!" Lois said, talking into his sleeve.

"It's your sixteenth birthday tomorrow!" Sammy said. "I seriously couldn't just sulk around in Houston and let you, Steve and grumpy old Mabel have all the fun and cake."

"Cake?" Lois frowned.

"Sammy Valdez, you're losing more than your manners if you think that I'm going to…"

"Not you Aunt Mabel," Sammy yelled out. He pulled his quick-and-slick train station purchase from his bag and opened up the cardboard box to his sister's awe.

"Does this make up for my missing Christmas and about a million birthdays apiece since the great war?"

Lois tried to slap and tackle-hug him at the same time.


	20. 1949 April

**My best friend and I made fudge after school, I don't have to go to my career orientation class for two days, and my science teacher taught us for the first time in a while. I had a _really _good day and I'm in a _very _good mood. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own the character and the loose outline of this story.**

* * *

**April 26th 1949**

"Oh crap," Sammy said.

"What's the matter?" Rodrigue said shuffling around the kitchen for food.

"A friend died," Sammy said with a heavy heart. "The guy who taught me mechanics."

"Gerald Malloy?" Rodrigue wondered.

"Mallory," Sammy corrected. He ran a hand through his hair. "Dear God, that's terrible. He wasn't a young man or anything, but still…"

Without Mallory, who knew what Sammy's life would be like right now? He wouldn't have gone in the army as a mechanic, so he might have been shot in battle as a soldier. He might have come back a veteran with no job, future or ambition. He wouldn't have met Rodrigue, who was now his best friend. He wouldn't have his tools and his hands and this big understanding of the things that moved and dazzled everyone around him. He wouldn't have those memories of being sixteen and sweeping the floor of the workshop while being explained how a motor worked and asking questions and getting hit by his own broom if they were stupid. He didn't see Mallory often and neither of them were the letter types, but Gerald Mallory was one of the people with whom Sammy's life would have been completely different.

Once the news from Lois' letter was absorbed, he tore open Steve's.

"Oh crap!" Sammy said again.

"Did your _aunt _die too, for God's sake?" Rodrigue asked exasperated.

"No, even better!" He said. "I think... I'm in the will."

"You're in the will?"

"I am, like, _the _only person in the will." Sammy said. "I mean, I'd rather he be alive. That would be the greatest thing to happen right now. But Mallory's giving me all his tools."

"Sammy," Rodrigue asked slamming his hands on the kitchen table. "Operation Sucker Punch..?"

"That's exactly what Mallory would want me to do," Sammy said.

"We are one _freaking _step closer if we've got tools..." Rodrigue said.

Sammy ran his hand through his hair.

"I have money," Sammy said. "Money that I… that I've been saving without telling you- it's a long story. I think that we are _no steps _away from The Amigos Shop."

Rodrigue looked at him in awe, and Sammy went to dig his suitcase out of his closet, find the sock full of money hidden in the inside pocket and dump it on the kitchen table.

* * *

_ Anza,_

_ I don't know how you'll be feeling about fate and destiny when you read all this. I know that I've always felt like it was bogus that the universe came with a road map, I mean, why explore it if it did? But I have believed in omens since that stupid diamond had brought the curse down on me. _

_ Mallory dying was a shocker, don't think for a second that I was happy to see him go if it meant I got his tools. No. But getting those tools… It made me so sure that it was time. That it was what Mallory would've wanted, that he was encouraging me even if he'd only heard a single phrase about the shop_. _And if this was something a dying man had left me to do, then it was okay to use the money I'd gotten from the diamond of a girl who was now dead._

_ That's when building of the shop you half grew up in started, Anza: before your daddy was even born. _

_ Weird how that happens, eh? An old man taught a young me how to fix tools. A young me met another young guy who fixed card. A young us decided to build a shop. Middle-aged us raised kids in that shop. Old us raised our middle-aged kids' kids in that shop. Maybe Leo's going to grow up in a shop too, I don't know what the hell he's going to end up doing in the world. But suddenly you've got three generations of people all centered in this one place._

_ Long story short: don't damn me for having mechanics in your blood. Mallory was the man who gave me the original buzz, and he was the man who gave me every chance to succeed. _

_ Sammy _


	21. 1949 June

**June 4th 1949**

When you opened all the doors, the place had a nice breeze.

When you measured it up, they had enough room for a desk at the front and two work stations, as well as a back office, tons of extra room, and a generous parking lot just outside.

The place used to be a smallish warehouse, but Sammy and Rodrigue managed to buy it for cheap, bring over all of Mallory's equipment and set up shop while working part-time for Charles King.

Sammy was loving it, even if the work was hard. They were two guys setting up everything, getting their business licenses, establishing plans when it came to money... They worked all day to drag the furniture around, mount cork boards, install the tools on them, assembling cabinets, adding the huge sink in the back of the shop, comparing prices on the spare parts market, making orders… Sammy didn't mind all the hard work though. He loved it, actually. It felt exciting and completely unreal that he and Rodrigue were actually doing this instead of raving about it when at least one of them was drunk.

"It still needs a name," Rodrigue said before downing some Coke from his bottle. "I think Bello and Idiot sounds good."

"I think that _Not a Chance _represents us better," Sammy replied. He swirled his drink inside the bottle. "Siggy's," he said.

"What?"

"Siggy's. We put our names together-"

"Where is there an 'Iggy' in my name?" Rodrigue asked.

"That's how stupid people pronounce it Mr _Rod-rig-ee'." _Sammy said.

"Point taken, but why does your name get to go first?"

"Because Iggymmy sounds stupid and foreign and I'm older," Sammy said. "So there."

Rodrigue shrugged. "I like it."

He raised his bottle. "To Siggy's Shop."


	22. 1949, June 14

**I forgot to say hello to all of you last chapter.**

**Hello.**

**I've had a crazy long week so my posting is going to be really bad. I apologise about that, but you can blame my 50 million teachers and their thirty four essays/projects/miscellaneous assignments for that. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own the character of Sammy Valdez. **

* * *

**June 14th 1949**

They stumbled into the first open diner that they found a few blocks away from the shop after having lost track of time and realised at 9:00 PM that they were starving. It was probably supposed to read _Don's Yummy Food, _but half of the lights were busted. It was empty when they went in.

"Hallelujah," Rodrigue said as they sat at the counter. A waitress leaned across the counter, tossing a menu in front of each of them. She had long legs, black hair in curls swept over her shoulder, and red lips that popped.

"Evenin' boys, what can I get you?"

"I'm good," Sammy said opening the menu. He was starving.

"Beer," Rodrigue said.

"We don't have a license."

"And you're honestly telling me that that stops anyone?" Rodrigue said. She gave them a look, broke into a grin and walked to the back.

Rodrigue had settled his mind on a drippy burger, but Sammy wanted something sweet.

"Pie's not half bad," she said leaning against the counter.

"Is it?" Sammy said. "You're a waitress. Why should I trust you?"

"My tip relies on my bein' decent," she said. "Why would I be untrustworthy?"

"Point taken."

"I suggest the pecan pie," she said.

"Sure," Sammy said. "I'm assuming that you're the expert."

She laughed. "That's right. I went to college for this, I have a double degree in Main Course and Desert."

"And beer, I like this beer." Rodrigue said.

"Ration it, you ain't gettin' two," she said before taking their menus and going back into the kitchen.

Sammy listened to Rodrigue's newest rant (this evening's special was on some guy in the newspaper) before their food came by. Rodrigue's burger was drippy but in a good way, and Sammy took the biggest spoonful of pie ever. He had to gag to get it down.

"What is this?" He said.

"What do you mean 'what is this', it's clearly pie." She said.

"This isn't pie. This is sugar and cardboard compacted together and dressed up as pie," Sammy said. "Holly smokes. I _trusted _that degree of yours."

She laughed. "It isn't that bad," she said.

"The sugar has overloaded my taste buds. Look at my tongue, it's probably scorched."

She laughed again. "You are ridiculous."

"Well that's polite," Rodrigue mumbled.

"And how in God's world do you know what cardboard tastes like?" She asked leaning on her elbows towards them.

"What kind of child do you think I was to become this guy?" Sammy said gesturing towards himself. She laughed again.

"Well the burgers are good," Rodrigue said.

"So ya'all will come back and keep tippin' me for the burgers," the waitress said spreading her hands.

"Well we aren't coming back here for the pie," Sammy said. She laughed again.

* * *

_Dear Esperanza,_

_Ask me if I know who the woman I'd just met would become. Ask me. Go on._

_The answer is that I had no idea at 9:00 PM when I was starving and in a diner with sticky seats, and if you'd told me exactly where her destiny was going to take her and where mine was going to take me, I'd have laughed my butt off. For a variety of reasons, the concept of it would have seemed impossible to me. But knowing you, __I'm sure that you recognise her. The easy laugh, the pure accent, the job... _

_And it just goes to show that you never know who people are. You look at them and you see a face with a nose and two eyes and a mouth (in most cases) and you see a skin colour and the shape of their eyes and the way they wear their hair. But you never know what kind of future that person has -probably because you know yours even less- and you never know who they are. Like Hazel: people didn't know that her mom would yell at her as a hobby, that she was already told that she was worthless and wicked at home- so they decided to tell her themselves. Like you, when Leo was born, and people called you things not even worth committing to paper._

_It's a complicated world, and that quality's rubbed off on all the people. You never know whose pie you're insulting, Anza. You never know who you're making laugh. So here's a tip: make them all laugh. Be nice to all of them. Don't insult anybody. Because you just never know._

_Sammy_


	23. 1949, September 17

**September 17****th**** 1949**

They were sitting in the middle of Siggy's, looking around.

"Bro," Rodrigue told Sammy. "We did good. This place is ready to roll."

"We did real good," Sammy agreed. "Dommf it is?"

They'd rebaptised _Don's Yummy Food. _They called the diner Dommf's because half of the letters writing out the place's name were either stolen by teenage misfits (alias perhaps-maybe-even-Sammy) or burned out.

Sammy slid onto his usual stool, Rodrigue at his right, and the waitress who always served them walked up to their table after arguing with another waitress to dibs it.

"Hiya boys," she said. Carmen Garcia was her name, and she had long legs and long arms. Her hair was long and brown, knotted behind her neck, and she was wearing her uniform as per usual. Her lips were a popping red colour. "Is it a beer or a coffee kind of day?"

"Root beer," Rodrigue declared.

"Ooh. Someone's being fancy."

"Yes but only if you have a degree in Beverages," Sammy said as seriously as he could.

"Go away Valdez, you're annoying as heck." Carmen said shaking her head. She poured root beer into two glasses and plopped them in front of them. "Grand opening tomorrow, isn't it?"

"You bet," Rodrigue said. "Right after this we're going to go smash your car's windows and slit your tires so you can be our first customer."

Carmen giggled and put a hand to her heart, leaving a pen mark on her collar. "Well I would be _honoured, _boys. As long as Sammy here's the one who takes care of me."

She said it meaningfully.

"I don't know. I'm in high demand you know. They don't make 'em like me by the dozen." Sammy said sprawling his hands.

"Oh I know sweetheart," Carmen said. "No pie today?"

"No pie ever again," Sammy said.

She winked. "Root beer, coming right up _amigos." _

She walked away and Rodrigue caught him starring.

"Geez. Flirting and starring all in one night, what did I miss?" He asked.

"What do you mean, what did you miss? Nothing, obviously. I can't get rid of you"

"No," Rodrigue said lifting up a finger. "The only obvious thing here is that there is love in the air."

"Shut up, will you?"

"And it totally flew right by both of us by the looks of-"

"I'm giving you three seconds to shut up before I unleash my wrath."

"Bro, she's hitting on you," Rodrigue said. "Come on, I know you're not gay because of that one chick. Go for it. Ask her out."

"What? You are dreaming in colour." Sammy said rolling his eyes.

"Not at all. There's a movie downtown, _The Lovers of Paris. _All the girls are flipping out about it apparently. Take her." Rodrigue said. "Go for it. You have nothing to lose."

"Look, the shop is _just _opening…"

"Ah, ah, ah." Rodrigue said. "We are closed on Sundays and after 6:00 PM. We have a sign that says so and everything. Signs are sacred, Valdez. You _picked that one out _for God's sake!"

Sammy looked at the kitchen again. Carmen was leaning into the big window separating kitchen and dining area, talking to the cook and laughing. Her laugh was pretty cool.

"Maybe I will," he shrugged.


	24. 1949, November

**November 30th 1949**

The business went _well. _Like, really well for a first month. A lot of people came in, and Sammy knew that not all of them would come back to get their cars or lawn mowers or motorcycles fixed but his first pay check was _nice. _ And with it, he took Carmen Garcia to see a movie and have supper at a diner where she didn't work.

"Don't worry," he said. "I won't tell your real diner that you're cheating on it."

Carmen laughed when he told her that. "Oh how kind. Maybe you can try this place's pie."

"Nuh-uh. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me."

"Fool me thrice, shame on whoever made me this stupid," Carmen finished. Sammy scoffed.

"What, you've never heard that?" Carmen said with a wide smile.

"No, who's ever heard that?" Sammy laughed.

Everything was going really well until the movie started and he recognised the actress Hedy Lamarr onscreen.

He shook it out of his head. Actually Carmen dissolved it from his mind when she took his hand in the dark, with only the screen light to illuminate anything at all. Her lips still appeared popping bright red.

He had a nice evening after all.


	25. 1949, December

**December 24th 1949**

Sammy was home for Christmas. Home, home being New Orleans that didn't even feel like home anymore. He'd shed his memories, ditched his ghosts. What was left?

It was while Aunt Mabel and Lois were making Christmas dinner (or at least while Mabel tried to show Lois how to cook) that Steve dragged Sammy aside.

"I need a job," he said plain and clearly. "I can't handle being here anymore, I need to be doing something and I… well, I spend a lot of time in the shop at school. I've been raising college money like a madman. All the letters that you and Rodrigue send got me really curious and all. Do you think I could come work in Houston?"

"No way," Sammy said right away.

"Sammy..."

"There are only two of us in the shop, Steve. It's not an easy job, are you sure it's what you want to do?"

"It's the only thing about New Orleans I can stand at this point, except family of course."

"Yeah, they're the silver lining about this place, I've got to agree. Lois is actually pretty-good looking. I'm concerned about this." Sammy said.

"Don't change the subject." Steve said sternly. He looked a lot like their father, and that made Sammy so incredibly ill at ease...

"Steve, I love you. I really, really do," Sammy said. "But I don't want you to make a rash decision and shoot down a bigger opportunity or something to…"

"Sammy," Steve cut. "No. Just give me the job or don't. Nothing better's coming my way, and I'm pretty sure this is what I want to do."

Sammy held out his hand. Rodrigue would have his say in it later, like, when-Steve-would-get-to-New-Orleans later. "You're hired, little brother."


	26. 1950

**Hi! I got my first dress today, for a formal in May. Yeay. Also had a chaii latte and some frozen yogurt/gelato by smooching off my friends. T'was nice, I hope that your weekend is good too.**

* * *

**March 3rd 1950**

Steve was doing well in the workshop, getting his college hours via an apprenticeship. He and Rodrigue got along pretty well, they liked to eat food and talk about football and make fun of Sammy as bonding. The workshop was doing well- all was well for once! Except for the one hitch.

That one hitch was called Rebeca Bello. She was Rodrigue's sister and the goddess of beauty, love and all the good, sweet things on this spinning planet as far as Stevie-boy was concerned. When Rebeca would visit or crash in their office to recover from her days at college or as a student-teacher at a local elementary school, Sammy got in the habit of taking the tools out of his brothers' hands- lest he become dangerous with love, fluffy thoughts and something called the _gaga effect. _

One day Sammy spotted Steve leaning against a car as he talked to Rebeca. The way his hands moved, the way he was shrugging nonchalantly- oh he was _definitely _flirting. Telling some tall tale, no doubt. What about? Sammy didn't know, but it was probably fake. But he was a good brother so he bid his time and swept in when Rebeca left and took Steve aside.

"Nuh-uh," Sammy said. "Don't go there, man. Don't do it."

"What?" Steve asked.

Sammy sighed and hoped that he hadn't been this thick with Rodrigue when he'd introduced the concept of _maybe you like Carmen_.

"Don't go after Rodrigue's sister," Sammy said. "He works with you. If he finds out you're going doe-eyed for Rebeca, he's going to whoop your ass back fifty years."

Steve's mouth twitched.

"He's not _that _protective is he?"

"Oh yeah," Sammy said. "Literally before the first time I met her, he warned me that if I found his sister physically attractive, he was going to kill me."

"Oh," Steve said. He could definitely have used the memo. "Because I kind of… invited her to walk around tonight."

Sammy's eye twitched.

Steve had goddamn _needed the memo _more than a fish needed water or more than Rodrigue would need a fork for all the chewing out he was about to do.


	27. 1950, October

**The story's 200 pages long now. Woot, woot! Isn't that great? And I still have more than ten years worth of events to write. Ha ha, ha ha, ha ha, this was supposed to be a oneshot...**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the character of Sammy Valdez or the general outline that served as base for this story.**

* * *

**October 17th 1950**

Sammy walked into the forge after dropping out of a meeting that only required either him or Rodrigue to be present (he'd closed shop last night and ergo, for the record, had the total right to do so). He walked into Siggy's and came face to face with Steve and Beca sitting on the hood of a dented car. They were also face to face, and clearly leaning in for a kiss.

The door slammed behind Sammy and the two of them jumped in a panic and completely _flipped out. _Steve looked at Sammy helplessly and Rebeca looked like a deer in the headlights.

"I'd ask if it was a bad time," Sammy said, "But I think we all know the answer to that."

Sammy gave them a face and walked around taking exaggeratedly deliberate and long steps, like a military colonel.

"Beca, Bec, Beca…" He said. "What are you doing defiling my little brother? How could you? I thought you respected me more than that. You're lucky you're a lady, or else I'd have gotten my shotgun. They teach you how to use those in the army."

"Sammy," Steve sighed.

"And you young man, how dare you dishonour the family name?" Sammy said.

"Sammy it's not funny."

"I think I'm hilarious," he informed Steve.

"Dear God, is Rodrigue with you?" Beca asked panicky, tugging her hair out of her face. She was still wearing her teacher work clothes, a blouse and a skirt that she could still kneel down and bandage a kindergartner's scraped knee in.

"Nope," Sammy said. "I came back from my meeting all by myself."

"Screw you Sammy," Steve said with a hand on his heart as if he'd had a heart attack, or had been feeling one coming.

"Do you want me to go take a walk so you two can finish up? The weather's lovely at this time of the year" Sammy asked.

"I have lots of tests to correct," Beca said suddenly, slipping off the car hood. She taught first grade. What the hell was so important in first grade to require testing? "Steve, thank you so much for the tour I really appreciate it."

"Rodrigue gave you a tour when we opened this place up." Sammy said.

"Well it's changed a bit since then, hasn't it?" Beca said with a sticky sweet smile that said _shut up or I shall murder you with your own tools. _"I will see you two boys later."

"Oh definitely," Sammy said pounding Steve on the back meaningfully. Steve grabbed his arm and twisted it.

"Let me walk you out," Steve said getting up.

Sammy was cleaning some tools when his little brother came back in, looking very pissed.

"Sorry about that, you should've put a sock on the door." Sammy said. "_That_ I understand. Telepathy? Not so much my strong point, but I am working on it- very hard, that is."

"Stop it," Steve said. He grabbed another tool and started cleaning the oil off. "God, you scared us Sammy."

"Well I am very sorry for that, but trying to hide a relationship from Rodrigue and then kissing his little sister in the workshop he co-owns? Not your best idea."

"It just _happened." _Steve said.

"Well wonderful," Sammy said. "I'm glad that you have spontaneity in your relationship, keeps it alive and such. But if I wasn't the one who'd come through that door, you would be a body right now. A freaking bloody one. No actually- Rodrigue would probably have burned you, I see it. It's his style, don't you think?"

Steve sighed. "Please don't tell him."

"I won't," Sammy said. "It's not my business to tell him. But just… promise me that you'll make sure that this doesn't blow out of proportions when he finds out."

"I will," Steve said. "And who's to say he'll ever find out?"

"The way you and Beca look at each other as well as logic and common sense, with a preface by Murphy's Law."


	28. 1951

**Yeay, I hit 225 pages. Yippee for multiples-of-25-celebration chapters!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the character of Sammy Valdez or the general outline that served as base for this story.**

* * *

**June 5th 1951**

"Sammy Valdez, don't you dare," Carmen scolded smacking his hand.

"Ouch," he complained, drawing his hand back.

"You asked for it. I told you not to touch that map. This is a surprise," Carmen said. Sammy went back to sulking in his seat.

"Oooh," Carmen said. "Someone's ain't used to not be drivin'."

"To be honest I'm just not used to you hijacking my truck. Where did you even get the keys?"

"Back pocket Valdez. You always keep your keys in your back pocket," Carmen said.

She took a right on the lonely road they were on. "We're nearly there. Half an hour, give or take. Traffic was good."

Carmen had conspired with Rodrigue on this one, and his roommate had woken him up early in the morning, thrown him out of bed and told him to get dressed because he had plans. Sammy was too tired to argue and when he'd popped into the living room, Carmen was waiting, playing with his pick-up's keys. Here they were about two hours later.

The fields started to get fenced off, and then horses were dotting the field. They were getting closer and closer to a big barn and a farm house.

"No way..." Sammy said.

"No way what?" Carmen said looking straight ahead. She was smiling though.

She parked the car, they hopped out, and Carmen had a word with a man named Felipe- her Uncle Felipe as a matter of fact. He welcomed them to the ranch, which also offered riding courses to people around Austin on weekdays and Saturdays.

"Carmen tells me you used to be a stable boy," Felipe said. "Well, you two aught to be just fine around the property. Ya'all get free range."

Sammy turned towards Carmen, eyes wide. She was smiling broadly, the popping red lips splitting her face.

"And so who's the best for keepin' the surprise?" Carmen said lifting her hands up. "Let me answer that. _Soy yo." _

Sammy agreed with her with a kiss.

There were seven horses on the property. Poppy, Jack, Charlie, Ruby, Lady, Gizmo and Prince. Carmen was used to riding Ruby, and Sammy saddled up Charlie because he looked like his best horse at the New Orleans stable ("his" horse): Whisper. They wandered off on a trail, and then wandered off the trail. Charlie was a breeze to ride. Nice and docile and happy to gallop.

"Slow down there, I don't have quite the touch you do," Carmen called.

Sammy taunted her as she caught up with Ruby, who was an old horse too.

"Let's stop for a while," she suggested.

"Why on earth?" Sammy asked.

"It'd be more obvious if I had that picnic basket instead of my backpack..." Carmen said.

"Not to mention more poetic," Sammy said. "More illustrious. More picturesque. More..."

Sammy's stomach decided to announce its hunger to the world at that moment.

"Your stomach don't seem to mind about poetry much," Carmen said.

"They're very bland and uncultured organs," Sammy said. The promptness of it made Carmen laugh as he dismounted. Sammy helped her dismount Ruby.

"I can get off on my own," she said.

"I know. But this is classy," Sammy said. "C'mon, you took my picnic basket, at least let me get the knight in shining armour thing."

She rolled her eyes and accepted his hand as she climbed down.

They spread a picnic basket and tied the horses' reins to tree branches to make sure that they didn't run away. Carmen really had thought of everything.

"Why did you do all of this?" Sammy said. "I mean, I don't mind but..."

"Can't I do it because I love you?" Carmen said.

"You most certainly could," Sammy said. "But you could also have made me pancakes because you loved me, so really..."

She slid over closer to him.

"I did it because you told me how great your first job was, how you'd even take the horses out. I did it because I think that you get homesick, but you refuse to admit it to anyone because you did so much to get away from New Orleans in the first place." Carmen said. "I think that that's also why you haven't told anyone your birthday, and why you're threatening Steve with a painful death if he does."

"My birthday?" Sammy scoffed. "What does it matter on which day of the year this world was blessed with my presence?"

"What if I was planning on making it a national holiday?" Carmen asked.

"As if you'd endure the paperwork that would be undoubtedly necessary," Sammy said.

"Okay, but here's the real reason I did all of this," Carmen said. "I've decided that your birthday is on June 5th."

"You decided, did you?" Sammy said. "Carma, even my own mother couldn't decide."

"Well you're bein' difficult, so I'm endin' this I-don't-got-a-birthday nonsense right now. Everyone has been made aware that today is your designated birthday, so right when we get back to town we're all going out for supper and you have presents."

Sammy looked at her with a smile. He was thinking about twenty things about her right then. How obstinate she was, how well thought out all of her plans were (as opposed to his 'let's move to Houston and _then_ find a job and a place to stay'), how beautiful she was, how difficult she was, how much he absolutely adored her...

"You are one amazing woman," he said pulling her close and kissing her head.


	29. 1951, December

**December 4th 1951**

_Anza,_

_ So I don't tell this story often. Why? Because it is the story of my proposing to your grandmother. I mean, your uncle and aunt and dad came out of it so my screw-up wasn't at an invade-Russia-in-the-winter level of stupid. And I suppose that there was no real way of knowing it wasn't going to work out._

_ Anyways, yes, I proposed to her. I was pretty smart about it if you asked me. We were at her uncle's ranch again, we'd just taken the horses out. Ruby and Charlie were back in the stables and we were just chilling in there. We were sitting on this rickety old bench talking and her head was on my shoulder and before I knew it the ring box was on her knee and then the ring was on her finger and then my heart was beating out of my chest. I still remember the feeling. It was great, so I suppose you can't call it a mistake overall. It's hard to look back at things and wonder how right or wrong they were. I mean, sure, some things are easier to classify as 'wrong', but are they really? _

_ Like I remember that I punched Bradley Winston in the third grade and my father smacked me when I got home and Hazel was so mad at me because I'd stirred up trouble over a guy calling her name. That was wrong. Running into Mallory's workshop while he was coughing? In the long run it definitely was a good idea for me to do- if not just to save a man's life. But selling Hazel's diamond? It cursed me, definitely. But if I hadn't sold it I wouldn't have gotten to Houston, met Rodrigue, and opened the shop. If I hadn't been opening a workshop on the same street would I ever have gone to Domf's and gotten a coffee or a beer depending on the day and would I have met your grandmother? Would your father exist? Would you exist? It's complicated, Anza. The world is a chain reaction of what happens in it, and if a single link is missing than what happens to that chain? Maybe I would've gone back in the army to avoid poverty and gotten shot in Vietnam or something horrible like that if I hadn't sold the diamond. _

_ Besides, if things were a good idea at the time, why does the future have a right to influence how good they were? It's so weird. When people say they live in the present, they always forgot that in the past they didn't know their future. _

_ I think that in those two respects, nothing you do is wrong or right because it could be the chain link to something fantastically right happening in your life._

_ In my case, it would be my children and grandchildren and even my great-grandchild. Because I love you all and couldn't imagine a world where I'd be the happy man I'm dying as if I didn't have any of you._

_ Sammy. _


	30. 1951, April

**April 12th 1951**

He was lying in bed and trying to make the world a better place with sheer thought and laziness. It was Saturday and he'd had to work late because Rodrigue had decided that he was going to get the flu, so he was exhausted.

Carmen walked into the bedroom. "You really _are _a sack of bones, aren't you?" She asked. "I've had time to make rolls and do some laundry and mop the floor, write a novel, climb a mountain, and get a degree in medicine."

"It'll go well with your degree in Main Course and Desert." She laughed. "That right there says a lot about the superhuman strength of Wonder-Carmen," Sammy said. "Did'ja rescue a kitten stuck in a tree? Save orphans from a burning building? Ah ha! I knew it! How many orphans?"

She tossed her pillow at him. He didn't even move. Maybe she was right, he _was _a sack of bones.

"I washed your shirts."

"Thank you very much."

He heard her pull a drawer open to put them away, but she paused. "What's this?"

Sammy sat up and saw her holding up a tiny bracelet with glass beads and plastic charms –no jewels- that wasn't worth anything anymore, but had cost a fortune to a stable boy from New Orleans who made peanuts and scraps.

"Sammy, is this for me?" Carmen asked.

He'd completely forgotten that he still had it and his heart shattered a bit when she put it on. How had he forgotten?

"Sure," Sammy said. "I got it thinking I'd give it to a girl I loved one day, when I was a kid. That's you now."

She smiled at him brightly. She didn't even say anything about how plain and worthless it was, she just smiled.

Maybe that was how she could tolerate him. She didn't complain about the plain and worthless.


	31. 1951 July

**Fun fact: I screwed up the years recently, so we're going to pretend that 1951 happened twice. Thank you kindly. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own these characters.**

* * *

**July 9th 1951**

_ Anza,_

_ Here's another awkward subject for me now, my wedding day. I will tell you five things._

_1) __Back in the day, we didn't fuss and muss about weddings. That, combined with Carmen's enthusiasm about planning: it didn't take long before we were saying 'I do' in front of God and her scary father and her scarier mother and a whole bunch of people in a church._

_2) __I looked _damn good.

_3) __So did your grandmother. Her dress was really plain and people whispered, but I think that it made her look good instead of making a piece of clothes nice. Also now when you guys see the picture you don't laugh because there aren't any poofs or whatnot. _

_4) __Rodrigue had this delusion that he should get drunk about halfway through..? And then tell everyone about how cute I looked in the bath as a baby even if I was an adult by the time he'd met me, so I think that he classifies as the Multiple Personality Disorder/Schizophrenic Drunk. I didn't know that that existed Anza, but I swear to God that's what happened. _

_5) __It was a good night. Even now after everything that I know happened, it was a good night. I'd never seen a woman look as beautiful as your grandmother had, I finally learned how to dance without looking like a baby lamb discovering its limbs and their proper usage, Steve and Beca managed to dance without Rodrigue getting a heart attack, my in-laws actually said something nice to me (wedding jitters, don't get too excited), Lois came down from the convent (maybe she was a sister and not a nun- I'm still not sure to this day) and that was one of the last times I saw her, as previously mentioned Rodrigue got drunk, the music was all old and therefore very good…_

_ So here's your lesson of the letter Short Stuff: never forget the treasure the past because of the present. _

_Sammy _


	32. 1951 August

**And I haven't posted in forever because this chapter was missing and I was too lazy to write it. Yeay me.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own these characters.**

* * *

**August 7****th**** 1951**

"I've got some news," Carmen said sitting down at the dinner table.

"Yeah?" Sammy asked looking up from the food he was dying to eat. "What fantastic thing happened in the world of Wonder Carmen?"

"Actually it's kind of in the world of Sammy and Carmen Valdez," she said playing with her food and shooting him a look that meant _you should realise what I'm talking about anytime now._

"Is something in the house broken?" He asked.

"Sammy I'm pregnant," she said dropping the bomb.

His eyes sprawled. "Like… Whoa. Wait, can you say that again?"

"I'm pregnant," she said. This time she smiled, and he realised that it matched the look on her face.

"Like, you're going to have a baby?"

"Okay now I'm curious, what else would you expect me to come up with?" Carmen said.

"Sorry I'm just… I didn't think that we'd have kids so… Oh wow," he said getting up and going around the table, wrapping his arms around her. He kissed her head and she wrapped her arm around his.

* * *

_Dear Anza,_

_I'm about 90% sure that this is not how you reacted because circumstances. You weren't married (ergo the family flipped), you weren't financially comfortable (ergo the family flipped again) and you weren't exactly ready to drop everything for a tiny screaming being right away (ergo you flipped). Meanwhile I had a job that I could keep working after this baby came because there is a specific way babies are made and my part was overrall done until said baby needed taking care of, I was married so people didn't shoot me the Look of Death and I'd always wanted to eventually have kids one-day-I-guess. _

_And this may not be interesting to you because you may figure that it didn't affect you since your creator wasn't in creation yet: but here's how I reacted._

_I was kind of shocked. Yes, I did in fact try to confirm that Carmen was indeed pregnant with a baby. She reassured me that it wasn't an antelope because I guess that she probably expected that kind of stupid response from me. I get stupid when I'm surprised, it's not my fault. Maybe because when you don't understand the world you don't see all the stupid little problems with it? I don't know._

_So yes, A = shock. _

_B= super-extreme-let-me-just-explode-right-here-right -now-happiness. I mean, this is really cool. This is the kind of dream that you just always have in the back of your head. Like: yes I shall give in to society's standards of the perfect life because it really does look kind of good to live in a house with a spouse you adore and who hopefully loves you too and a cute little baby that'll turn into a runaway toddler and then a rebellious teenager- maybe more of those and throw in a dog. Ooh, picket fences are nice too! For me, it was everything I hadn't gotten as a kid. My father ran away, half of my family was killed off in an accident, I was working to support the family before I was even a teenager... I was looking forwards to having a family again, Anza. (In a way that Steve didn't count as) I really, really was. Family's always been important to me._

_C= asdfdghkalj or something in the likes because in my head I was like _

_i) argh there's going to be a baby here in x months and _

_ii) argh the baby's going to be ours and _

_iii) argh I will be required to make sure it becomes a good person even if I'm still not sure what that is what kind of adult am I?_

_So that's basically what happened for, hmmm, nine months I'd say? Nine years maybe even, I don't know when I kind of just accepted that I was a dad and that I just had to do what I had to do and not think about it. Maybe never and I'm still internally screaming about adult responsibility. _

_Sammy_


	33. 1952

**I hope you keep enjoying!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own these characters.**

* * *

**February 3rd 1952**

"Sammy?" Someone asked walking into the workshop.

He rolled out from under a car.

"Yes, ma'am," he called, flipping onto his stomach to figure out who in the world he was talking to. Heels clicked against the hard ground and he spotted Rebeca.

"Am I disturbing you or..?"

"No, no, I'm nearly done. " Sammy said. "Why?"

"I need to talk. Real badly." Beca said. Her face was so anxious, Sammy got worried and suddenly defensive. Lois was back in New Orleans where she'd recently enrolled in a nunnery because apparently nunning (or whatever the verb 'to be a nun' was) was what she wanted to do with her life. It was like Rebeca was filling in for the part of him that was compulsively like 'must take care of little sister, must take care of little sister, must find little sister to take care of because must take care of little sister'.

"What's the matter?" He asked. "Did something happen to you?"

"No, I'm fine," she said softly.

"You walked all the way from the elementary school to talk to me during your lunch break," Sammy said. "To me. _Me. _Out of all the people in Houston. I don't think so. Go grab a Coke in the back and have a seat. We can talk in a sec."

After he finished his job, Sammy found her sitting in the back room, back straight and ankles crossed.

"I got you one too," she said pointing to an unopened Coca-Cola.

"Much appreciated," Sammy said. He sat down on the chair, crossed his legs and propped his chin up like that statue of _The Thinker. _"So what brings you to Siggy's, Miss Bello?"

Beca's voice was sad again. Sammy nearly expected some kind of rare genetic disease to be brought up. "I have a guilty conscience."

"Well, what's wrong?" Sammy asked.

Beca took a deep breath.

"You know about… Steve and I?"

Sammy choked on his cold drink. "Dear Lord did he knock you up?"

"Sammy!" Beca said scandalised. "We're not married yet."

"That has never stopped anybody Beca dearest," Sammy said although he acknowledged the 'yet'.

Beca turned red. "Is that so?"

"My sister's a nun, let's not continue this conversation any further. Yes, I know that you and my brother are having an affair." Sammy said.

"I just… I feel bad because Rodrigue doesn't… he doesn't… It's just so complicated and I don't know how to tell him see, so he's super clueless right now and he..."

"Doesn't know about you and Steve? Yeah, I know. And as someone who cares deeply for the latter's wellbeing I suggest you keep it that way."

"But that's the thing, Sammy," Beca said. "I don't know if I should."

She sighed.

"When Dad died in the war Rodrigue's the one who stayed behind and took care of Mama and me. He got called a coward and unpatriotic for his staying behind, but he always wanted us to be okay. He's always been the one protecting me, taking care of me." Beca said. "I feel like I'm lying to him, and the least I owe him is honesty, for crying out loud! I know that you slip in and out of characters and play make-belief to make people laugh and lie long enough to pull out birthday surprises or whatnot. But none of that works for me so this is really chewing at my conscience."

"Okay," Sammy said.

"He's my brother. Is it unfair not to tell Rodrigue? I mean, he would have a _cow _if he would find out from anybody else, and why would I want him to?"

"It wouldn't be a cow Bec, it'd be murder urges."

He realised that he wasn't helping at all even before Beca shot him a very telling look. He was getting better at this social-interaction thing.

"I'd say that it would be," Sammy said. "If Rodrigue was the only person in the world. Sadly for Rodrigue, he is very far from being the only person in the world, and his being happy doesn't factor in to what you should or shouldn't do." Sammy thought for a second. "Does my somewhat unhygienic little brother make you happy?"

Rebeca's eyebrows were still creased, but she smiled and nodded.

"Does my somewhat unhygienic little brother make you feel like you're the only person in the world who matters at all?"

She smiled a _la-la land _smile and nodded again.

"Is my somewhat unhygienic little brother a good kisser?"

"I rather not answer that."

"Hmm, I'll take that for a no. Regardless, that's what matters. Rodrigue'll find out in due time. I suggest you start thinking about letting him know… but preferably while Steve's out of town just in case."

Beca laughed a bit.

"Somehow that makes sense, Sammy Valdez." She said. She kissed his cheek. "You do know what you're talking about sometimes."

"On Wednesdays and full moons," he nodded.


	34. 1952, April

**I guess the little alarms went off when people started asking me if I'd abandoned the story... Sorry it's been a while since the last update: I've had a tough and long and busy week.**

* * *

**April 4th 1952**

He heard shouting in the back of the shop and he tried to act casual with the customer.

"It was just a problem with the oil," Sammy told the man. "It's a good thing you came when you did, but your car should be fine from now on Mister…"

"_My sister." _Was all that he heard.

"Mister Duncan," Sammy said biting his lip.

Mr Duncan stretched his neck. "Is everything okay in there?"

"Oh yeah," Sammy said. "This is normal. For today. Hopefully only today."

"Who's sleeping with who's sister?" He asked sounding amused.

"They're not even sleeping together, that's my problem with the situation." Sammy grumbled. He closed the cash register and walked Mr Duncan out. Carmen slipped into the shop as the door was open- which was a very impressive feat for a heavily pregnant woman.

"Hello Miss Garcia," Sammy said with a bow.

"Hello Court Jester," she said sounding uninterested. "I was grocery shoppin' and I got you boys some peanuts for the back because I swear to God noen of you eat enough to…"

Someone yelled. Carmen jumped and Sammy had to grab her arm to keep her steady. If she fell, he wasn't sure how getting up would go at this point.

"Good Lord, what is going on?" Carmen said startled.

"Oh, Rodrigue found out that Steve and Rebeca were messing around," Sammy said.

"Took him long enough," Carmen said brushing her hair from her face. "Is he beating Steve up?"

"Nope," Sammy said. "The code word for that is 'armadillo'. I'm trying to let them sort it out like men."

"And that's how men do things?" Carmen asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Of course," Sammy said. "How wouldn't I know? I am the _epitome _of manly."

"Epitome, eh? There's a scary thought. For how long have they been at it?" Carmen asked, her eyebrows furrowing. Sammy had learned to take that as a cue for 'the volcano will blow and take out several small Pacific nations with'.

"Since Rodrigue found a picture of Beca in Steve's car. I'd say it was… two hours or so of dark glares until Steve said a thing and made Rodrigue mad, then Steve said another stupid thing that made Rodrigue madder and would've made me mad, to be honest."

"Two _hours?" _Carmen said.

"No, no, no. Two hours of _dark glares. _They've been arguing for about twenty minutes, not much yelling, it was quiet."

"Have you tried to help?"

"Someone has to be up front or we'll get backed up," Sammy said.

Carmen arched her eyebrow furthermore like _why are you clowns running a business? _Sammy agreed.

"Carmen, it's okay," Sammy said trying to sound comforting. "Seriously. It's like in King Kong- one horrible rampage on New York City and then it'll all cool off and end there. Wait, no, King Kong has sequels, bad example…"

Steve yelled out a cuss word and Carmen growled.

She dropped her grocery bag and marched to the back. She threw open the door and came in.

"What in the Lord's good world are you two doin' in here?" Carmen asked.

They both shut up.

"Working out a problem," Rodrigue said. "Like men."

"Like men, like men- like _men!" _She said. "I don't think that nobody in this shop knows what that means, and I suggest that you two find a different strategy.

"You, why were you foolin' around with a girl without meetin' her parents? Were you raised in a barn? I don't think so, cause your brother knew how to do things right, what's the matter with you? And you-"

Sammy could nearly see Carmen spin towards Rodrigue. He totally had to smile. She really was feisty.

He walked closer and closer to the door as Carmen chewed him out for stretching it out.

"If you have somethin' to say, then say it. If you don't have nothin' to say, then don't say nothin'. I don't care any less but you two havin' a screamin' match at work is unprofessional, you hear me? And leavin' Sammy up front on his own? Both stupid and rude."

Sammy put his hands on her shoulders to try and calm her down. Somehow it worked. Hell yeah, he had a calming presence.

"Carmen's right," Sammy said. "Steve, I think you owe an apology to Rodrigue. As a friend for not telling him earlier, not as a guy who ravaged his sister or whatnot. Rodrigue, you need to apologise to Steve. Honestly, I've seen him and Beca and they're happy. He takes good care of her."

They both looked at Sammy like _shut up._

_"_But what would I know, eh? I'm just the unbiased third party who must have _some _knowledge on relationships considering I'm married." Sammy said.

_"_And about to become a father," Carmen added softly, her mood having spiked to the opposite end of the hormone chart.

Oh, Carmen _so _hadn't had to add that last part. It just sent Sammy into a whole world of _oh geez, what the heck, what, wait, what, huh, I don't. _Again. Which wasn't a good idea since he was trying to solve a conflict and would be working with power tools after that (assuming he succeeded).

But something about it just calmed the two of them down.

"That _was _stupid."

"Oh, ya think?" Carmen said. Her mood had gone racing right back up the chart.

"Sorry, man," Rodrigue said. "I just… I've seen my sister and my mom both get their hearts broken, so I suppose I _do _get defensive."

"Ya suppose?" Carmen huffed. Sammy squeezed her shoulder to try and prevent her temper from screwing the whole thing up.

"My dad walked out on my mom. You know that. I would _never _hurt Beca."

When he used her nickname, Rodrigue cringed a bit and Sammy looked around for a nice hammer with which he could knock out whoever started the next undoubtedly upcoming fight.

"But for the record I am sorry I didn't tell you. Please don't be mad at her either, she was scared that you'd react like this. She was losing sleep over this, I swear."

Rodrigue sighed. "Well, she was right to worry I suppose."

"Absolutely," Carmen muttered.

They shook hands and suddenly the whole world was safe and sound again.

* * *

"Good Lord, you must be glad Carmen's about to pop," Steve said. "That woman's got even less nerves than usual."

"Be kind to her," Sammy said. "And don't talk that way."

"What," Rodrigue said. "Are you terrified of having a child? Are we going to have to sit you down and pretend we know what we're talking about as we say that everything's going to be alright?"


	35. 1952, April 29

**I guess the little alarms went off when people started asking me if I'd abandoned the story... Sorry it's been a while since the last update: I've had a tough and long and busy week.**

* * *

**April 29th 1952**

"I'm tellin' you, this child'll be as hyperactive as you are," Carmen said from next to him.

"What makes you say that?" Sammy asked leaning on his elbow so that he could see her face. "Voodoo? The moon's position?"

She rolled her eyes at the ceiling. "Nonstop kickin', that's what."

Sammy grinned and pushed her hair from her forehead. She guided his hand to her belly.

"Just feel it. See, there he goes. This is what I'm dealin' with."

"Does that not _hurt?" _Sammy asked, somewhat alarmed.

"Not really," Carmen said. "It feels nice in a way. And a bit scary- but only a bit, because it means that the baby's healthy right? It means that he's healthy. And you're right here one way or another."

He kissed her forehead. "You've got that right, Wonder Carmen."


	36. 1952, May 9

**Hi! Have a chapter with no actual ending!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the character of Sammy Valdez**

* * *

**May 9th 1952**

He swept Carmen's hair out of her face.

"It's okay," he tried to be soothing but having never given birth he didn't know exactly what 'soothing' was or could potentially be. He was pretty useless at the moment. It didn't feel too good.

Her eyes were starting to close because of the sleeping medication and her grip on his hand relaxed. Her eyes were hazy and distant.

"Stay, okay?" Carmen asked.

"Of course," he said. Sammy held his breath as she went under. He was pretty sure that everyone in Texas could hear his heartbeat. It was deranged at the moment, so maybe that wasn't a good thing.

"Sir, you can go home now," the nurse said dragging him out of the room. "We'll call you when you're a father."

"Wait- what?" Sammy asked. "No, whoa, can't I stay?"

"Are you having a baby too?" The nurse asked unimpressed.

"Ma'am, if you think that that's physically possible than I'm not sure I feel comfortable with your being a nurse." Sammy said.

He got the dirtiest look and didn't get a second to resist as he was kicked out.

Now he was in the workshop, a bundle of nerves and frustration, ranting to Rodrigue and Steve.

"They just _kicked me out _and God damn it," Sammy said going on and on some more.

"Oh boy," Rodrigue said. "Steve, you stay here and man the shop. Try not to hook up with my sister while I fix this guy up."

And so then Sammy was standing back from the administration desk as Rodrigue talked. He beckoned Sammy over. He nearly tripped over his feet to oblige.

Rodrigue put his hands on Sammy's shoulders.

"Sammy, you can stay." Rodrigue said sounding very serious and serene. "It's okay. I told them about the disease."

"The what?" Sammy said.

He put a hand on Sammy's shoulder.

"I told them that in your seventh months left to live, all you wanted was to be with your wife and child." Rodrigue said seriously.

"Why did you tell them that?" Sammy said dropping out of character.

"Because it's not good to keep all this hurt to yourself," Rodrigue said pounding his spare hand on Sammy's chest.

"I appreciate man," Sammy said. "Sometimes, you and Carmen are all that keeps me going. All that keeps me being honest with myself."

The nurse acting as secretary looked at them all sadly.

"You can just have a seat, sir." She said. "And if there's anything I can do, just let me know."

"Thank you ma'am," Sammy said.

He and Rodrigue walked over to the uncomfortable plastic chairs.

"Thanks Rodrigue," Sammy said quietly. "Good one."

Rodrigue shook his head. "It's nothing, my friend. I would do anything to make your last days on earth comfortable."

* * *

_Dear Anza,_

_This is a story that I don't think your grandmother ever told you because God forbid anything that may make Sammy look decent, and I don't think that you were at Siggy's on the day that Rodrigue staged the reenactment. But it is a real story. _

_Moral of it. There is a way to fool the system. But don't tell them that I told you, because the system is scary._

_Not a moral but an observation: I think that's the most nervous I've ever been in my life- just standing there and wondering what in the world was going on while I was in a waiting room with the nurse who thought I had a week or five minutes to live and -wait for it- Rodrigue as my only comfort. I love Rodrigue like a brother, I really do. But if that's the new look of comfort, we're all screwed. I guess I've seen how much damage a torn-apart family or a family gone wrong could tear apart people on its way, and I was kind of scared of making some faux-pas and triggering that chain reaction. Actually, I don't even know Anza, but it's a scary thought that a tiny human being will one day be dependent on you. And that 'one day' is, like, right now on that very moment._

_Sammy_


	37. 1952, May 10th

**Hi! Have a chapter with no actual ending!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the character of Sammy Valdez**

* * *

**May 10th 1952**

"Mr Valdez?"

"Oh crap that's me," Sammy said snapping himself out of drowsiness. He'd been at the hospital for ages. The guy next to him shot him a look like 'congrats on remembering your name'. As he walked up to the nurse, Sammy thought that he was pretty good for having remembered how to talk, period.

"Hello ma'am," he said.

"Miss," she said grumpily.

"My apologies," Sammy said.

"Your wife just woke up. Congratulations on having two beautiful little boys."

"Oh that's great," Sammy said feeling more relieved than ever. "Wait- two?"

"Yup," the nurse said. "Surprise. You have twins."

"For God's sake," Sammy muttered under his breath. "Really?"

"Your wife was just as thrilled," the nurse said. "I take it ya'all didn't know this?"

"Not particularly or at all, no." Sammy said. He took a deep breath. It didn't matter. Carmen was okay, and so were Thing 1 and Thing 2 apparently. That was the important part. Details, like numbers, were blurry and meaningless. Everything would be okay.

"You can come see them," the nurse said interrupting that. He nearly tripped as he followed her down the hall.

Carmen looked pretty exhausted when he came in but she smiled at him.

"This thing happened," she warned him.

"I know, they duplicated." Sammy said. "How are you? Oh God."

She was holding one of them. The doctor she'd been talking to held the other.

"I know," she said softly.

"This is Twin A," the doctor said. "The oldest. Would you like to hold him?"

"Yes," Sammy stuttered. The doctor lowered Twin A in his arms and Sammy kind of felt like melting.

"Come here," Carmen said patting a free spot on her bed. Sammy nodded and sat down next to her. He kissed her head.

"They're gorgeous," he said softly.

"I know," she said. "I'd say I had a pretty productive day."

Sammy smiled but couldn't tear his eyes away from the baby in his arms. Except to kiss Carmen's hair again and look at Twin B.

"They're identical," Carmen said. "But I've spotted the difference. Gabriel has a birthmark on the temple, see?"

"Gabriel," Sammy nodded. That was the name they'd picked earlier. "So who's that one?"

"I don't know," Carmen said. "I have no idea. We'll figure something out."

"Always," Sammy said kissing her hair again.

* * *

_ Anza,_

_ Anyways, I don't think I need to tell you how it felt when I saw Carmen and Felipe and Gabriel. It just felt magic. Part of me was still panicking because there were two of them and by 'them' I meant babies that I would take care of and have to raise to be good people. Like, what? How was I supposed to do that when I wasn't entirely sure that I was a good person myself? How was I supposed to do that when so much was on the line? I mean, if I screwed up, one of them could end up as a pimp or a drug dealer or something. Do you know how scary the possibility of your child being a pimp is? (Probably not because I'm pretty sure that I'm the only one who was thinking about that particular thing in the moment, but now that it's out there think about it and how scary the idea is. But don't worry, you're going to be fine, and Leo won't end up being a pimp). _

_ But a big part of me was just taking it all like a dream –possibly because I hadn't slept at all for the last 48 hours. I'm kidding, it was a dream because kids are magic. I don't know how else to say it. It's a miracle that they're there in the first place, it's a miracle that they're yours and it's a miracle that they're okay. _

_ For the first time I understood what people meant when they said stuff like 'I have to be there for the kids'. That always sounded stupid and senseless to me: I'd seen plenty of people not 'be there' mentally, or just not at all. But it wasn't some moral responsibility or a contract parents signed with the universe. It's because of that feeling you get when you hold your baby for the first time. _

_ I don't need to explain; you have Leo, and you love him more than anything. Just copy-paste that feeling into words or an explanation that make sense, and maybe this letter will too. _

_ Sammy_


	38. 1952, November

**I'm sorry that I've been a lazy poster recently. Really, really sorry. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the character of Sammy Valdez**

* * *

**November 23rd 1952**

"Take one," a frustrated Carmen said the very second Sammy walked in the house. He dropped his coat and grabbed the closest baby.

"Hello…" He checked behind the baby's ear and looked for a birthmark. He found it and finished his sentence with "Gabriel."

Gabriel was crying so Sammy didn't get anything back for hello, he just walked around with Gabriel trying to comfort him as Carmen got cracking with Felipe. Apparently it wasn't working at all for either of them.

"You're holding him wrong," a sharp voice came.

Uh oh. Sammy imagined alarms going off, like the building was on fire. _Evacuate, evacuate. Abort mission. Abort mission. _

"Nobody, not even Carmen's, ever told me that," Sammy said patiently, turning around to face the most terrifying woman he knew.

His mother in law.

People were always terrified of their wife's father because he had the potential of beating the living heck out of you. As a scrawny man, Sammy connected with that fear and felt deeply for the cause. But Mrs. Garcia was a freaking terror. They named hurricanes after this woman. The Olympic weight-lifting team had her name tattooed across their backs.

"Well Carmen hasn't got a lick of sense, that's my millionth argument for it." Mrs. Garcia snapped.

The first argument for it being that she'd married him.

"Is the first argument genetics?" Sammy blurted. He immediately cursed himself. Sammy should have held his tongue but so many possible answers to that flew through his mind… At least he was holding a still-screaming Gabriel, so Ana wouldn't dare knock the life out of him. That also meant he couldn't run.

"Her choice in ill-raised bastards is my first concern," she snapped back.

The hairs on the back of Sammy's neck stood up straight.

"Maybe I've never explained this to you," Sammy said, "But I'm not a bastard." His thoughts flicked back to Hazel, which was weird because for the last years he'd been doing his absolute best to turn off the part of his brain that always defaulted to wondering about her. "And I really rather you not use that as an insult in my house."

He'd never pulled that card before. It was exciting, though. _My _house. He owned something. He had a mortgage ladies and gentlemen, he had a mortgage! Yes, yes, excellent. This was very nice, and made for some excellent possible leverage. Sammy approved.

Ana looked at him squinting, as if disappointed that he'd said it.

"There ain't no shame in pointing out sin," Mrs. Garcia said. "The Good Lord said so 'imself."

That rubbed Sammy wrong in about twelve different ways. First and foremost, he didn't like religion being mentioned- especially not at home which was supposed to be his safe place, his family-only place. That may or may not stem from the fact that the Church he'd gone into after WWII had been condemning the war. Sammy may or may not have gotten up, said 'Goodbye Mr Priest' and walked out in the middle of the service after saying something very heretic in Spanish. Maybe also because he'd discovered the dark side of nuns when he was at St Agnes' and found it weird that members of a religion that was oh so devoted to welfare and peace was managing a school made especially for coloured kids. Maybe because he had been placed in a crow's nest position from which he could see all the people that an almighty God wasn't helping out. Whatever the reason, that irritated him.

"Well in this house you can pretend that I'm the great lord, how's that?" Sammy said.

Mrs. Garcia slapped him pretty hard (and if he weren't holding her firstborn grandchild, Sammy was sure that she'd have slapped him harder), but she never called anyone a bastard as an insult ever again.

Also she never said a good or acceptable thing about him ever again. Which wasn't a big change to adjust to, so really this was just a win-win situation. _  
_


	39. 1953

**I'm sorry that I've been a lazy poster recently. Really, really sorry. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the character of Sammy Valdez**

* * *

**May 10th 1953**

Sammy wasn't particularly in the mood to be at the workshop late. At all.

It was the twins' birthday and he wanted to spend time with his sons. Gabriel was walking and Felipe was always chatting up a storm nowadays although about two thirds of it made no sense- this being the only way to tell the two identical kids apart since Carmen insisted on dressing them exactly alike. They'd put balloons on their bedroom door in the morning (although they were too young to understand that) and they got to 'pick' what was for supper (so Carmen just cooked something that they liked because once again, they were young).

But Steve had called an emergency meeting and had reminded Sammy that he owed him one because he had done his homework back in the sixth grade when he'd been busy with some get-Hazel-away-from-Queen-Marie business or whatnot. That was how Sammy was forced to stay. Plus there was a kind of neediness in Steve's eyes that kind of made the big brother instincts wrestle with the dad instincts.

Steve was backed up against one of the wooden worktables and looking as nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs.

He took a deep breath.

"There's no easy way to say it…" Steve said.

"Well then say it a hard way," Sammy said impatiently, tapping his foot. "Now. Preferably in the next ten seconds."

"I want to propose to Beca." Steve spat out.

Rodrigue's eyes sprawled.

"And I thought that maybe I should tell you first because you are my friend and somewhat boss," Steve said.

Nobody moved a muscle.

"So you decided to keep me here so I could testify in court if Rodrigue snapped your neck?" Sammy said.

The air was tense still.

"Just by the way, I wouldn't testify against Rodrigue I need him to run this shop with." Sammy said.

The air was still tense.

"For he's a jolly good fellow, for he's a jolly good fellow, for he's a jolly good fellow," Sammy hummed under his breath. "Which nobody can deny…"

"Okay," Rodrigue finally said.

"Okay I want to propose to your sister or okay I can?" Steve asked.

Rodrigue hesitated for a minute.

"Do you promise to treat my sister like she's the most important girl in the world?" Rodrigue asked.

"You know I already do," Steve said.

"And you'll stay with her? You won't hurt her in a thousand years? You'll love her?" Rodrigue asked.

"Yes," Steve said.

Rodrigue blinked and swallowed.

"Then make it romantic, Beca's a complete and utter sucker for that."

Steve just tackle-hugged Rodrigue and Sammy broke out into song again.

"Which nobody can deny!"


	40. 1953, June

**Hey guys, my exams are coming up. You know what that means. More panic, more fanfiction, more updates!**

* * *

**June 6th 1953**

"For the last time, I see no difference whatsoever between taupe and champagne so…"

"Just because you feel that I'm going to ask you a wedding related question doesn't mean that I am, smart ass." Beca whined.

Sammy turned around from the newspaper. These discussions were always fun.

"So what the hell _were _you going to ask?" Rodrigue asked.

"Okay, so it _was _wedding related…"

"Knew it."

"Oh, calm down," Beca said. "It isn't about colours or anything. I just… have a favour to ask."

"If you're going to do like Sammy and ask me to get my degree to marry you…"

"Okay, you're an idiot, I'm just going to say it before you make me change my mind," Beca sighed. "I want you to walk me down the aisle." **  
**

Rodrigue froze and Sammy fell out of his chair. He was rushing himself back to his feet while Rodrigue opened and closed his mouth like a fish.

"Man, she's getting married. You can't say no."

"No, but, I mean..." Rodrigue looked stunned. "Me? What? Don't dads do that?"

"Based on my experience," Sammy interjected (un)helpfully.

"I don't have a dad," Beca said. "But I have a big brother who always took care of me, always loved me, and always helped me keep my head up. And I think that that's even more important in a bunch of ways."

Rodrigue imitated a breathing fish for a while more before getting up and hugging Beca tightly. Now: he may be wrong, but it looked as if he was crying.

"_Which nobody can deny," _Sammy hummed to himself.

* * *

**Dear Anza,**

**I remember once when you came up to me and asked me, _Abuelo, why isn't Uncle Rodrigue married? Like, ever? Why hasn't he ever been in love?_ That's a good question Anza. I knew Rodrigue better than most people, and so maybe I'm the best guy to throw out some ideas.**

**A) The one person specially designated as his soul mate became a nun or is currently praying on a Tibetan mountain (if it's my sister, I swear to God...)**

**B) Rodrigue may not have been interested in anyone. Maybe he was assexual, or maybe he was gay and too afraid to say it (remember: Texas, 1950's. Not pretty), maybe he was bi. I don't know, but I don't believe so. But honestly, I never bothered asking which team he even played for.**

**C) Rodrigue's mother was actually so horrified when their dad died that she wore black until the day that she killed herself, when Beca moved out of the house. Maybe Rodrigue saw the danger in giving your heart to other people.**

**D) ****This is what I think was his actual story:**

******Why do we ever go in relationships, Anza? Why does anyone ever couple up? Animals do it to mate. Humans are more complicated. We do it to feel loved, appreciated, wanted and to fight loneliness. What I think happened was that when Rodrigue went into a taking-care-of-people blitz when his dad died (like I did when my spawner decided to pack his bags), he didn't have anyone like Hazel to crush on. I think that he just got all of those things -feeling appreciated and not being lonely- from other places. Rodrigue cares about other things than a hypothetical woman. He loved his sister wildly, he put his heart into work and being lively, he loved my kids, then his sister's, then all the grandkids were favourites. And I've got to say Anza: he was a pretty fantastic friend to me too.**

******Sammy**


	41. 1953, August

**August 20th 1953**

Sammy was holding Felipe's arms above his head and holding his son up as he stomped around the backyard.

"Attaboy," Sammy said. Gabriel was running up in front of him giggling, and he reached the ball first and kicked it away before sprinted after it.

"Uh oh," Sammy said. "Gaby's going to get to the ball first."

"Sammy Valdez, don't you dare let go of your son." Carmen called from the deck.

"We've got to go quick, quick, quick." Sammy said ignoring her and helping Felipe go quicker and quicker. Gabriel got to the ball first once again. Frustrated and pissy, Felipe was whining and whining about never winning. Gaby kicked the ball again and this time Felipe saw his chance. He squirmed out of Sammy's grip.

Carmen scolded him but Sammy was too busy watching as Felipe used his momentum to rush to the ball and jump on it. Gabriel plopped down on his butt and watched his brother lie down on the ball. Good enough, he supposed.

"Good job!" Sammy cheered. He turned to look at Carmen who was shooting him a dark look as she came towards them, but it only lasted a second before she grabbed Felipe in her arms and congratulated him whole-heartedly.

Sammy grabbed Gabriel so he wouldn't feel left out.

"Kay buddy, now you have to start talking to catch up with your brother."


	42. 1953 December

**December 2nd 1953**

Sammy glanced over his shoulder and saw Beca. Rodrigue was walking her down the aisle as the slow music played and as people either hushed up or spoke up because of the bride's entrance.

She was a really pretty girl to start off with (purely from a factual point of view of course, he didn't want to have twenty thousand people on his back for saying that). She had a thin heart shaped face and cascading brown hair that fell past her shoulder blades on any given day, but today it was pinned up with probably a considerable amount of pins and a flower to match her bouquet. Her dress was pretty bold around the top- a sweetheart neckline (as Carmen had later told him it was) with thin and nearly transparent tulle straps down the shoulders, but she had the shape and courage to pull it off. It stopped at her knees like a sundress- and so overall, Rodrigue had probably died a bit when he'd seen it. She was smiling broadly.

Sammy looked to the front like he was supposed to, leaned forwards and whispered to Steve:

"Wait 'till you see her."

"Stop teasing," Steve whispered back tapping his heel against the ground.


	43. 1953 December 3rd

**Guess whose exams are starting next week? Expect a lot of fanfiction born from the depths of my despair. Or updates like this. Whatever it is: enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: me no own**

* * *

**December 3rd 1953**

The fun part about having to do bills was nothing. The fun part about having to do bills for the workshop at home was minus-five nothing- but unfortunately Rodrigue was using his sister's wedding as an excuse to get an easy weekend and Steve had just gotten married and was in Florida with Beca right now.

However Sammy had the kids swarming around him, and what was he going to do? Say 'not now Daddy's busy'? Well, that would probably be the actual right thing to say but it just seemed rude. He was home after all- home was family-oriented. So every few seconds he had to get up and run around chasing Gabriel, or go patch up that stupid train that the boys had gotten from Rodrigue with pieces that kept popping up (which Rodrigue must have known would happen)…

Finally he decided to break Carmen's bedtime routine –despite her shooting him a dark glare that you'd think God would give sinners- put them to bed early, and that was the end of that (thankfully).

A new disturbance emerged. Carmen.

She sat down next to him and put her head on his shoulder. He put down his pen to just cuddle up but she said, "No Sammy, keep goin' it's alright."

So he did. But when he finished he just lied down with her for real.

"You okay?" Sammy asked playing with her hair. It was impossible not to play with her hair when it was in arm's reach.

"Mmm-hmm," Carmen said.

"You sure? You look tired. And you didn't have a piece of that –by the way- very awesome cake last night. What's going on?"

Carmen didn't answer. She just snuggled up closer to him and whispered it in his ear. "I'm pregnant again."

He grinned and looked her in the eyes.

"Really?" He asked.

She nodded and put her head against his chest. He kissed her hair.

"You smiling?" Carmen asked.

"Of course I am," Sammy said. "Aren't you?"

Carmen didn't answer; she just leaned against his chest and stayed there for a while.

* * *

**I'm taking bets for whether it's a girl or a boy. Reward is a story.**


	44. 1954

**Aww yes. So a problem got brought up a couple of chapters ago when the twins were born. None of them are named Sam Jr. This is for two reasons. 1) Sammy is not the type of person who would name another human being after himself in this story and b) while rereading everything about Sammy and Leo's family that I could find in the three published HoO books I apparently forgot to read that. But never fear! Since I do not sleep _ever, _I have found a cheesy but effective and practical solution to this problem. So just don't hate me, and although I appreciate everyone who's let me know about my latest screw-up, there is no longer any need to remind me.**

**Also I promised a story to the first person who effectively guessed the gender of the baby and so I am going to ask the winner, Louisa4533, to PM me with a prompt (whether it's in the form of a quote or a character) any time now. **

**Disclaimer: me no own**

* * *

** June 4th 1954**

"So?" Steve asked as he opened the door. "Guy or girl?"

"Girl," Sammy said.

"What's her name?" Steve asked.

"I haven't talked to Carmen yet, don't know yet. We were planning on Mia, but it changed for Gabriel last time."

"Well, talk to her," Steve said.

"It's more complicated than that. They won't even let me see her for a few hours. I just made sure that she was okay, and then slipped away until she wakes up. In case my in-laws killed me."

"Technically it'd have worked better if you'd have stayed in the hospital, so that if they had hired an assassin you'd have quick medical attention." Steve shrugged.

"Thank you Steven. What would I do without my little brother?" Sammy said drooling sarcasm.

"You look exhausted."

"I've been up for forty-six of the last forty-eight hours," Sammy said. "I am not a bundle of patience and gentleness at the moment."

"Geez, is it really that horrible when kid's coming?" Steve asked worried.

"Maybe, yes, no, I don't know- now is not a good time. Why the hell do you care? Usually you and Rodrigue sit back and laugh."

"Beca's gonna have a baby too," Steve said nervously.

"Wow," Sammy said. "Great. Smokes, there is too much giving birth going on today. Okay."

He sat with Beca in the backyard and played ball with the kids.

"Daddy," Felipe cheered. The two-year olds ran to him and Sammy scooped one up in each arm.

"Hey guys," he said. "Did you two give Uncle Steve some trouble?"

They nodded wisely.

"Good," Sammy said. "He deserves it like never before."

* * *

_Dear Anza,_

_Okay: so here's a thing that I'm hoping that you might help me with._

_When Carmen had Gab and Felipe and when I was finally allowed to see them, I was fully invested in totally caring for them and breaking every bone in the body of whichever jerk decided to be an ass to my kids. That has not changed to this day._

_But when I had Mia, I was doubly protective. So I have a few theories as to why, and I'm hoping that one day you may procreate again and supply me with answers.__ If you don't end up ever having a daughter, please forward the survey to someone who does._

_1) __I had a gazillion sisters growing up, so I had a pretty good idea of how much nastier the world was to girls. Was I just scared because of that?_

_2) __I had had kids before, and so I knew how rotten the world could be to kids from a parent's perspective and was ergo more afraid of what was awaiting my newborn baby girl._

_3) __I was a brother, and ergo knew what kind of natural shitdisturvers brothers were. And so I was scared for Mia's fate because she had brothers. _

_4) I am a sucker. She was smaller. She was cuter. She had Carmen's eyes. She made me think of Lois and Mary and Lola and Jeanette. She was just a girl. I looked at her and wanted to make the world better because she had been placed in the midst of it. _

_This is for the sake of science. Pass it on._

_Sammy_


	45. 1954 December

**I woke up 97% done with my week guys. No you don't understand, my exams start on Thursday. This is going to be long.**

**Disclaimer: me no own**

* * *

**December 23rd 1954**

"You know, you should have told the kid to hang on a couple of days. Then she would have been born on the same day as Jesus. She'd be holy and stuff. We could sing hymns and substitute her name in."

"Sammy." Steve said shooting him a dark look. The nurse was shooting Sammy a dark look too. But what she didn't understand was that after all the crap about kids that Steve had given him; Sammy was fully entitled to teasing his brother mercilessly.

"I guess that December 23 is nice too," Sammy said. "I think that there was an opera that was performed for the first time on this day in history, oh, what was it called… I think there was a murder in it…"

_"Sammy."_

"Was it Snow White? No, my bad, that's a Disney."

"If you don't shut up…"

"Hansel and Gretel, that's right!" Sammy said. "It was written by some Dutch bloke I think. Or was he German? No- definitely German. His name sounds like a sneeze, that's how I remember."

"Sammy." Steve said sharply. He was pale and stressing out and so, as the kinder, more gentle older brother who was in-tune with nature and the universe, Sammy snapped out of his trance and patted his shoulder.

"I'm teasing you," Sammy said. "I don't think there was a murder in that particular opera."

Just kidding, of course he was going to be at least a bit cruel about this.

* * *

_Dear Anza,_

_So of course I was mean to Steve, but I wasn't _that _mean. You're an older sibling too- so you know. We are cruel and mean- but at least we are merciful. We have the making of excellent monarchs. _

_So Steve wasn't flipping out as much as he could have been because eventually I became reassuring, and I always feel like it's crucial for everyone to know this because Steve has always made it sound like I was some kind of Fatherhood-Boogie-Man. Also a reminder, be nice to Rosa if she ever goes down the have-a-kid road like you did. It'll be tempting not to, but ultimately Rosa and you fall out on enough things as it is._

_Anyways, that was the day Maria was born. Yippee! The story of how she got her name is actually pretty cool. Beca was traumatised about how goddamn disturbing giving birth was, and so she insisted that the Virgin Mary never got enough credit in the stories for birthing a kid naturally and in a barn. So Maria was named after the Virgin Mary. Ta-dah! Typical Valdez, I'm not even kidding Anza- Steve was named after a cop who arrested my uncle on the night that he was born. Thank the Lord you ended up going with 'Leo'. Nice and sane. _

_Anyways, keep it real._

_Sammy_


	46. 1956

**Exam week: Post ALL THE STORIES AND CHAPTERS AND UPDATES**

**Disclaimer: me no own**

* * *

** September 1st 1956**

Felipe held on to Sammy's leg tightly.

"Felipe," Sammy whispered. "Psst."

The little boy looked up.

"I think you're going to have to let go of me so you can go to school," he said. "I'm too old to go, I go to Siggy's now."

Felipe's eyebrows furrowed after he'd taken a single glance at the school. "I don't want to."

"I know," Sammy said.

"Can't I stay at home with Mommy, like Mia? Or with Auntie Beca like Maria?"

"Mia's only staying at home because she's too young to go to school, same for your cousin. One day she'll be a big kid too." Sammy said. He put his hands on his son's shoulders. "You're a big kid. If you weren't ready for school we wouldn't bring you."

"Really?"

"Oh yeah," he said. "You are ready, and going to be really good at this."

"I'm scared I won't be."

"Oh, you will." Sammy said. "You will be _great." _

"Are you sure Daddy?"

"Yes," Sammy said confidently.

"Promise?" He asked anxiously.

"Pinkie promise," Sammy said offering up his pinkie. Felipe hooked his around Sammy's finger, he was infinitely smaller and his skin was a million times softer, and then he ran off to where Gabriel was already mingling with some lady-toddlers with ribbons in their hair. That was about the best example of contrasting personalities in twins that Sammy could come up with.

* * *

_Anza,_

_This is more of a warning than anything else. Your kid is going to grow up very fast, very suddenly. Don't you blink. If you do, one day you'll be standing in a schoolyard watching one slick son of yours going straight for the girls, and the other hobbling after him shyly. And you're going to stand there, and you're not even going to be the oldest parent standing there, but you're going to think "god damn, he'll be holding his diploma by lunchtime at this rate"._

_And if you survived the initial heart attack of that, then one day you'll be watching your granddaughter graduate from high school with an acceptance letter to the University of Texas in her back pocket and a smile on her lips and you'll be thinking "hmm, pretty sure that you skipped a few years to get here" and that you'll be looking for the fast-forward button she used because if it's there, there is most certainly a rewind to go with it. But you won't mind because it is kind of great to watch kids grow up, and those two little boys are cute and that granddaughter is beautiful._

_Sammy_**  
**


	47. 1956 October

**Exam week: Post ALL THE STORIES AND CHAPTERS AND UPDATES**

**Disclaimer: me no own**

* * *

**October 21st 1956**

Sammy leaned over to whisper to Carmen:

"I'm not the only one noticing, right?"

"No, I've been watching him all morning…" Carmen said with a frown. Sammy squeezed her hand and went around the counter to go kneel next to Felipe, who was colouring just across from Gabriel.

"Hey," Sammy whispered. Felipe looked up.

"Hi Daddy." The corners of his mouth were twitching up and down, as if he were smiling quickly. His eyes were blinking quickly.

"Hey sweetheart," Sammy said quietly. "Why are you blinking so much?"

Felipe shrugged. "I'm not trying."

* * *

_Anza,_

_You don't need to hear this story out completely because it stretches for about a year before it finishes, so I'll give you the Coles Notes and spoilers._

_Of course Carmen and I thought that it was really freaky how Felipe was moving without meaning to. We gave it about a month to see if it would go away on its own, but then he started clearing his throat for no reason, or coughing out of the blue- which he got in trouble at school for despite my efforts to pump some intelligence into his teacher. _

_We took him to see the doctor and he speculated on a bunch of things. From what we'd noticed, Felipe had five tics. He coughed, cleared his throat, blinked, smiled and unsmiled (for lack of a better or existing word),and shrugged . He said that he did it because it 'felt right' or sometimes it wasn't on purpose and it just happened._

_So a year of observation later, he got a diagnosis for Gilles de Tourette syndrome, which is a tic disorder that's more common than you might think._

_Anyways, you probably know this already because you took care of me a lot. But when someone is sick, it isn't about finding a guide book and checking off sentence after sentence like 'hmm, this has happened now let's brace ourselves because in two days, this weird new symptom is going to pop up and shake the pot'. It's good to have an idea about what's going on, but you need to get to learn how that person's particular illness/handicap/disability works. For example Felipe? If he wore a collar that was too tight or awkward, he got neck tics; if he was tired his feet would spin around. On some days, Felipe would echo what he heard- the big word that the doctors used was _echolalia. _We had a code, Felipe and I, so that if something was going wrong we could go take a walk away from everyone else. Unlike most people, his tics got worst when he was doing something calm and focused and better when he was excited or running around or doing something manual. Oh, how his teachers loved that. _

_I'm just warning you; maybe Leo one day is going to have some kind of quirk. In the off chance that he does; you're going to tell him that he's beautiful and priceless anyways, you will tell him that he is not a mistake, you will tell him that everyone is built differently because our differences make us stronger. And Anza, you will be right about all of those things- but will he think so? I can nearly guarantee that he will not. At least not at first. At first, he will be ashamed and scared._

_Do you know what will work? Here's what worked for Felipe. I was walking the three kids home from school when the boys were nine, and every time Felipe would shrug, so would Gab. Felipe and Mia ran back into the house once we got there, but I stayed outside with Gabriel and I asked him why he was imitating his brother. Were kids at school doing that? Don't do that Gab, it's impolite, you know that he can't help it. Gab looked at me and said "Dad, it's because if he's not the only one doing it people don't make fun of him and he's not alone". What helps is spontaneous, thoughtless acts like that, which are incredibly natural but very telling. Saying may not work Anza, but there are ways to make people who are different feel better. _

_If I'd have known that with Hazel, I'd have managed to make her feel like a goddess I am sure. Or I'd have died trying. _

_Have a good one,_

_Sammy _


	48. 1957

**Exam week update: I SURVIVED THE LAST BIG EXAM. I AM MIGHTY. I HAVE GOTTEN MYSELF DOCTOR WHO BUTTONS. I AM FULL OF JOY AND SUSHI.**

**Disclaimer: me no own Sammy and Hazel and Leo and Esperanza and that's about it.**

* * *

**July 12th 1957**

Carmen was fussing about the sheets in the tiny cabin again, and Sammy was outside playing with the kids. Mia had gotten upset over how badly she'd been performing at soccer against her two much more capable and active, so now she was just riding on Sammy's back and he'd used the I-am-your-father veto card to declare to the boys that he was her legs because she was so short.

To make her giggle he made horse and cattle noises as he ran.

"No daddy, be a horse with wings." Mia said.

"A horse with wings?" Sammy said. "When did you see one of those, Miss Mia?"

"When we were driving here," Mia said. They were at Lake Charles, Louisiana for the first summer vacation the boys ever had, and Mia's first trip anywhere. She was ecstatic and the two boys were really excited to get in the water. Carmen thought it would be too cold though, so they had to wait.

"Alright," Sammy said. "What does a horse with wings sound like?"

"Like a horse."

So he made horse noises again and although he hadn't really changed anything, Mia was satisfied so he supposed that his mission was accomplished.

"Sammy," Carmen called. He recognised that pitch in her voice that meant that she wanted to finish that with _you little spaz_.

"Uh oh, looks like you're losing your legs Mia." Sammy said. He crouched so she could hop off his back and scurry after her brothers who were arguing about which goal was whose, and he went back to the cottage.

"Yes sweetheart?" He asked.

"Can you help me out?" Carmen asked. "I'm unpackin' all by myself. You _never _do anything. It's like I'm draggin' my three children and some dead weight around."

"Sure, sorry. I just thought the kids…"

"Yeah, the kids." Carmen said. "Sure."

"O-kay," Sammy said. "I'm sorry. What do you want me to do?"

"Well it's too late now; there isn't anything left to do." Carmen said.

"You could have called me earlier."

"As if you ever listen," Carmen said.

"I'm sorry if you think that-"

"Never mind, I'm done." Carmen said. "Go back and play with the kids while I make supper. You're basically one big child yourself."

"Can I do anything to help you out with supper?" Sammy asked.

"No," she snapped.

"Okay," he said. He stood awkwardly for a second wondering what to do. Say sorry again? Ask her if something was bothering her? Kiss her cheek? Go away? Crack a joke? Rain dance?

"Well," Carmen asked.

"Well what?" Sammy replied.

"What are you doing?" Carmen asked.

"Sorry," Sammy said before walking out again with a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach. Like maybe he'd been out of the loop for a while.

* * *

_Dear Anza,_

_Here's this letter's million dollar question. _Was I _out of the loop? Or nah? I mean, I did work a lot. That comes with the fun of co-owning a business. But I was home for most dinners. I walked my kids to school and got up early so my wife wasn't alone making lunches and breakfast and whatever else she was up to in the mornings. I never forgot an anniversary. I did my honest best. But here's the big question- is your best good enough? And is it your fault if it's not, when you're pushing your limits? _

_I thought about that a lot Anza, you know how it is. You go to bed and look at the ceiling and over-analyse the emotional resonance of a breadcrumb that didn't even land on your plate. Especially me- I do that a lot. And then I write it down when I'm in the hospital and probably about to die. _

_I don't think it's your fault if you didn't know and had no good reason to know that you were doing something bad. I'm not talking about abusive people and so forth- you should have known that hitting someone is wrong. But how was I supposed to know? _

_I'm not sure if I was. But here's something that I'm pretty sure of at this point: you've got to let stuff go. If I go back and think of every single thing I've done wrong, I won't have time to live. That's without factoring in the guilt and so forth. So I've learned to let go. At this point I'm just impressed with myself for still being alive. Like, how badass am I?_

_Anyways, back to the point._

_Here's another thing that I've figured out. If you can't let something go, it was_ that _important. It was all that. It was the cat's meow. It was top-notch quality stuff right there. And you probably shouldn't have let it go in the first place, so that you wouldn't have a memory impossible not to clutch._

_Have a good one,_

_Sammy _


	49. 1958

**Life update: Off to Lake Placid with some girl guides. I'll see you all early next week with some updates. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: me no own Sammy and Hazel and Leo and Esperanza and that's about it.**

* * *

**August 5th 1958**

"Hey, so Beca had the baby today," he said when he walked back home.

"That's great." Carmen turned around and beamed.

"Yup," Sammy said kissing her. She curled up against him.

She was weird recently. She could look at Sammy with hatred in her eyes as much as she could curl up against his chest and not move for hours on end as they talked. He walked into the room and could get Happy Carmen, Sad Carmen or Emotionally Unstable Carmen Who Had Rage Coursing Through Her Veins. It'd started sometime last summer, and he didn't know why exactly. He didn't know why it hadn't stopped or how to talk to her about it. So far he was putting up with it and just drinking a lot of coke to make the world a better place (but at Siggy's because there was no soda in the house).

"Any idea what his name is?" Carmen asked.

"No idea, but it's a he so I can finally start a betting pool." Sammy said.

Carmen pulled away and gave him a venomous look. "About your nephew?"

"Sure," Sammy said. It was the wrong thing to say.

"I'm going to find the kids," he said.

"Don't get them all hyper before dinner," she said. Her voice was grumbly like a radio with bad reception.

"Okay, sure thing. Love you."

He didn't get an answer.

* * *

_Dear Anza,_

_Just so that you don't get confused in the family time line: that was the day Javier was born._

_Sammy_


	50. 1958, August

**Disclaimer: me no own Sammy and Hazel and Leo and Esperanza and that's about it.**

* * *

**August 12th 1958**

"Daddy, mommy got me a backpack!" Mia said as soon as he walked in.

"Wow," Sammy said. "You all ready for school now? Here, spin around so I can see it right."

Mia happily modeled the backpack for him and Sammy ooh and ahead to feed her ego. She was wearing her pajamas and her hair was down, so however happy he was for the welcome, he knew that she was pushing her luck in the bedtime department.

"Your backpack is very nice," Sammy said. "But isn't it time for something else right now?"

Mia shook her head crazily, denying it all (which would come in twenty kinds of handy later on in her life). Her dark curls flew around.

"I think it is," Sammy said putting a finger on his lip. "What could it possibly be? Oh- I know. Bedtime for Miss Mia."

Mia stopped shaking her head and looked at him very crossly as if he'd just unveiled a closely guarded national secret.

"I thought so," Sammy said.

Mia looked disgusted by the idea.

"Would it be better if I gave you a piggy back upstairs?"

That made her slightly happier and so that's what he did. Carmen was upstairs arguing with Gabriel about something or other.

"Mia Valdez- oh for God's sake, what did I tell you about running off?"

"Mama," Mia moaned and complained.

"No, to your room right now Miss." Carmen said taking her from Sammy's arms.

"Mama you're hurting me," Mia cried.

"Carmen-" Sammy tried to interfere in his daughter's favour.

"Sammy, don't give in to her." Carmen sighed.

"I'm not; she shouldn't run off like that, but…"

"I said _don't," _Carmen snapped. Mia was on the verge of tears like she always was when people yelled around her. Carmen touched her hair and calmed her down as she brought her to her room. The little girl melting against her shoulder.

"Goodnight Mia," he called.

"Don't go talk to the boys, they're settled." She scolded before going into Mia's room, the later clamoring for a story and a lullaby and being tucked in and maybe a second lullaby and could she please get two stories tonight?

Sammy was about to push open the twins' door anyways, but then he froze. She'd been mad at him for the whole week for some reason, and so he decided against it and just went downstairs. He'd called in to say that he'd come home late this time, but Carm hadn't saved supper for him so he made himself a sandwich.

He was in the kitchen when Carmen came down again.

"When Mia's being difficult and I'm trying to put her down," Carmen said in a tired voice, "please don't say anything."

"I know, and I wouldn't. But you were holding her a bit too tightly and…"

"Sammy, she's not hurt she just doesn't like to be picked up."

"Everyone picks her up all the time Carmen, your grip was too tight. I'm sure that it was an acci…"

Carmen hit him on the arm. She hit him hard, and it stung too. But it didn't sting because of the blow, it stung because of what the blow _meant._ "_Listen _to me," she said. "Just don't. I know my own daughter."

"And what is she, my acquaintance?" Sammy said.

"Don't you sass me Sammy Valdez," she said.

"I'm not…" He sighed. "I'm sorry; I just really think that you need to listen to me. You don't do that anymore and it's…"

"How am I supposed to do that?" Carmen said. "You never say anything worthwhile; I've heard better ideas from Gabriel!"

"See- that's exactly what I'm talking about," Sammy sighed.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"That that's exactly what I'm talking about," Sammy repeated not sure how else to explain it since he'd clearly chosen those words in that order for a reason.

"Don't sass me," Carmen said pushing him in the chest. "I just need you to get out of my legs when the kids are…"

"Because I'm not important to the kids either?" Sammy asked.

"I am their mother," Carmen said.

"And I'm their father," Sammy said.

"I am raising them while you spend your life in your shop," Carmen snapped. "You are working so many late nights and so many early mornings-_I _barely know where you are anymore."

"If I'm working, I'm at work." Sammy said. "That's not a form of rocket science, there. It's not at…"

"Sammy Valdez shut up," Carmen said. "_I _barely see you anymore because you're never around, and when you are you're with the kids."

"Yes because as previously mentioned and established, I am their father." Sammy said.

"Stop kidding yourself," Carmen said. "A kiss before bedtime, a hello on the weekends between paperwork- that's not being around Sammy."

"Look, I know I work a lot…"

"A lot?" Carmen said crossing her arms.

"Yes a lot," Sammy said his cheeks going red. "But I have to. For their sake, for yours, for everyone's sake okay? And right now I'm helping to cover for Steve, which is exactly what Rodrigue did for me when the twins or Mia were born..."

"That's no excuse, it can't possibly be _that _long."

"It is," Sammy said. "There is nothing I rather do than be here."

"Then you'd find a way instead of finding excuses!" Carmen said. "That's the worst part, Sammy- the excuses. You're making yourself feel good but really you're not any more around than your father was."

The colour drained from his face and he paled.

"Can't you even be here for supper anymore? If not for me, then for the kids?"

"I am not my father," Sammy said. He'd stepped back and was leaning against the counter, feeling sick.

"Could have fooled me," Carmen said.

"I am not," Sammy snapped. "I am not abandoning you. Don't you _dare _throw that insult around when you have no idea what it was like when he... I'm doing this _for _the kids, I love them to death, I know their names, I remember their birthdays and their nightmares, I would do _anything _for them."

Carmen hit his arm. "I hate it when you say that. Absolutely hate-"

Sammy grabbed her wrist before she managed to smack him again.

She looked at him in horror and wrestled her wrist away.

"Don't _touch me." _She said.

"I'm not going to…" Sammy said. He was wasting his breath. "Christ, I just don't want you to hit me anymore."

"And I want you around," Carmen said.

"That doesn't mean you get to yell at me, belittle me and hit me." Sammy said his heart pounding.

"What else am I supposed to do to get anything inside your thick brain?" Carmen said.

"Anything," Sammy said. "Anything at all!"

He pushed past her.

"Where are you going?"

"I don't know," Sammy said. "I'll be home tomorrow morning to brings the kids and school and I'll be home after work. If it ever ends, of course."

The door slammed behind him.

* * *

_Dear Anza,_

_I don't think I need to tell you more, and I don't think you need to hear more about those fights. Because they'd been happening often and they happened often for a while longer, so really I could be here a while and use up a lot of paper and make myself sad. Let's not. _

_Sometimes you'll feel pathetic. It's one of those unavoidable things. And sometimes you'll feel ignored and pathetic and lame all at once. I know I did when I finally realised that my wife was hitting me and that I didn't like it. I mean, already it's not often that a physically abusive relationship's wrongs come from the female side of things. And in the 50's? Forget it- there was zero awareness of anything like it. Even worst than it is now. Already it wasn't rare for people to beat up their wives. That must sound wild to you- heck, it sounds wild to me now. But I'm telling you Anza, it did happen. _

_I felt ashamed- I don't think that I'd ever told people that I minded before right now, this second when I'm writing to you. It didn't hurt or anything, but it's just not mentally pleasant to be hit. I knew that Carmen's dad hit her when she was a kid, and so that's why she did it. But in her mind, she wasn't hurting me and so it was okay to take out frustration that way. But I felt pathetic and weak for getting pushed around._

_I know that the feeling is familiar to you, but I want you to hear me out on something._

_I spent the night at Steve's (which was great since there was a new baby in the house –Javier doesn't shut up now and he sure didn't shut up then) and was meant to sleep on the couch although I stayed awake for the whole night and ranted a whole lot to whoever was awake for baby reasons. Steve was particularly helpful. _

_But the next day I went back home after breakfast and said hello to the kids and told Carmen that I wasn't leaving. She didn't react; I think that she'd have liked it better if I had disappeared so that she could have turned me into this unquestionable bad guy. But that wasn't happening. _

_See, my father left when I was eleven. Before he even met his youngest daughters. I knew what a bad father was like and I knew that if I ever became one, I may as well ask someone to shoot me. I did whatever my father wouldn't have the will, courage or sympathy to do. Stick around, and fight to stick around, being two of the bigger ones. Pay attention to the little things. Play with them. Let them be kids. Hear them out on stuff. _

_Anyways, back to the taboo of men getting hit by their wives. So of course in the moment of I was even embarrassed of not having been the strong one in those fights. Kicked down from alpha male to omega, you know? But I'm glad that I wasn't, at the end of the day, because I was strong in the end. I came back and didn't even consider an alternative universe in which I did not stay, and there is nothing that I'll ever be prouder of (except maybe my grandkids, love you Anza). _

_Another thing. What I said about instincts and trusting them in the beginning? That extends after your first impression of people. Truth be told, I should have followed mine better. I shouldn't even have stayed inactive until that fight got to what it was. So just remember that people can change. Nice one day, grumpy the next, yelling at you after that, and soon they're smacking you. They're not the same people when that happens, and you have to be able to see that and get out when you need to._

_Just promise me that you'll never do anything stupid like that, okay? It's the worst mess I could see you in Anza, and I was the guy you called when you needed a ride in the middle of the nights because you were in a field on the outskirts of town with a rocket-club of boys, a prototype, and some dried mango. _

_Sammy _


	51. 1959

**Disclaimer: me no own Sammy and Hazel and Leo and Esperanza and that's about it.**

* * *

**January 2nd 1959**

If his mind hadn't been made already, it would sure have been made after the horrible New Year's visit from her parents who stayed with them despite their living in the same city. Sammy had learned to have very low expectations of his in-laws, but he was feeling pretty left out and unwanted during the whole holiday. Mrs. Garcia seemed to hate him five times more than usual, Carmen barely spoke a word to him, they always kept the kids busy and away from him... Sticky-sweet smiles were the rule of the holidays. Unless you were Mrs. Garcia. Then you encouraged Gabriel and Felipe not to grow up and be like their father (in front of their mother who said nothing to defend her husband who of course couldn't reply because he'd get in way too much crap). And if you were Mr. Garcia you got to hold Sammy back when he tried to take the kids out for ice cream to get them away from their grandparents' brainwashing.

And so he sat Carmen down after her horrible parents left and he told her that he was tired of being too afraid to talk because he'd set her off and make her spaz (you'll appreciate the irony in this situation: she yelled at me that I was exaggerating her temper). That Sammy was tired of having the kids watch them and wonder what kind of a switch had been flipped to change so much, and that he was tired of being miserable at home. He told her that he wanted to get a divorce and she asked him why he would possibly want that (which really said a lot about her talents as a listener).

Eventually (and Sammy said 'eventually' because the angry Spanish ranting took a while to get out of her system) she agreed with Sammy, and so bam. Things were over.

"If that's how you feel…" Carmen said.

"It's exactly, how I feel," he answered. "And you know, you just don't acknowledge it."

"How is this going to work for the kids?" Carmen said. "You can't possibly keep them, you spend all your time working and…"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa- you're not taking full custody of the kids," Sammy said.

"Nor are you." She snapped.

"I didn't say that I-"

Carmen took a deep breath and brushed her hair behind her ear. Something caught his eye- the bracelet on her wrist. The bracelet he'd brought from New Orleans once he'd failed to give it as a gift, and the one that she'd found in his drawers and kept.

"You know what, I've had enough for tonight. We'll talk tomorrow."

"Alright. Good night."

As she walked away, Sammy just had to blurt.

"I want the bracelet back," Sammy said.

Carmen's fingers wrapped around it. "It wasn't meant for me all along, now was it?" She whispered in horror, thoughts of adultery and affairs dancing through her hair.

"Get your head out of the gutter," he said. "It was meant for nobody."

* * *

_Dear Anza,_

_ Never refer to the most important person in your life as 'nobody' no matter how much you want to keep that little slice of heaven for yourself, away from the hell you're faced with. No matter how big of a secret that person is. It's when you call someone 'nobody' that you realise that you're just like the rest of the world. That they're dead to absolutely everyone now. _

_ Trust me, you don't want that feeling. I know that I would give everything I had to stop it from curling up in my guts and hacking away at my chest every time I think back of the one time I betrayed my best friend. _

_ Nobody_


	52. 1960

**Disclaimer: me no own Sammy and Hazel and Leo and Esperanza and that's about it.**

* * *

**1960**

_Dear Anza,_

_If you go to my old apartment, look in the china cabinet. Clearly, I don't own any china- china is ridiculous, why the hell would I need china? But there is a china cabinet whose insides you will look in. _

_Instead of china you will find a bunch of things. One of them is a binder, it should be blue but maybe it's green. I don't know. In it are recipes of things that you can –and I am not playing with you- cook inside a cup placed inside a microwave. Recipes to make anything from quiche (if you're feeling classy) to chocolate chip cookies (if you're not). Also a bunch of fast-food menus are there if you're feeling both unclassy and cheap. __See, I have become an expert at cooking without a stove over the years because that's how you cook when you're a bachelor living with another bachelor (who may also be your business partner and prior roommate) after your divorce._

_I want you to have that scrapbook so that I know that your kid has some quality quiche at least one in his life. Also because I know that you don't like cooking and I don't think that anyone who hates it should be forced to work in a kitchen. _

_Now it's story time! _

_My life became better post-divorce, and worst at the same time. _

_Better because it was less psychologically tiring to figure out how to act, how to talk and who to be. Also my arms were a lot less bruised. It felt good not to have to worry about pleasing somebody. Except for Rodrigue because I moved back in with him- but you know what, I'd lived with the philosophy of 'Rodrigue can go screw himself' for long enough by that point; it didn't matter._

_Worst, because after a lengthy incident in which I nearly got beat to shit by my ex-father-in-law without anyone knowing; Rodrigue, Steve and Beca knocked some sense into me. For my own safety since the in-laws were being crazy behind Carmen's back and telling her would only make more things go boom, I backed out of arguing for a decent custody agreement. Carmen got full custody of Gabriel, Felipe and Mia. _

_I wasn't scared for them or anything, I knew that she loved those kids with all her heart. Your grandmother is not a cruel person (as long as you are not Sammy Valdez). But I missed them a lot. I got to see them on the weekends (not that they ever stayed with me overnight or anything, it was usually a day trip kind of thing), and I walked them to and from school on some days (most of those days ended up with going to get ice cream). But I still missed them a lot. _

_Ultimately it was for the best. But I'm here to tell you two things Anza._

_1) Don't get divorced. The paper work will make you want to throw up, it's a lot of trouble, it feels horrible, and it's the goddamned most horrible feeling on earth to have to explain to your five year old kid that Mommy and Daddy aren't going to live together anymore but that you still love them, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. Just make sure that you get it right the first time, kay? But if you don't, feel free to barf on as much paperwork as you need._

_2) Things will suck. But sometimes they have to suck before they get better. Think about rainbows and stuff. Everything's pretty miserable before a rainbow- what with thunderstorms and all. But at least after the storm it's humid, sticky, disgusting _**_but_**_ there's a rainbow in the sky. (So the metaphor sucks, but please don't forget the message)._

_3) Never back down from what's right. If one day you have a chance to fight against the people who have done you wrong, do it. Do it. Do it, do it, do it. That will probably be my biggest regret. As previously mentioned, Carmen's dad used corporal punishment on her when she was a kid. He beat his wife. He'd served time in prison and served some more time before getting sick and dying in jail. He wasn't a nice guy overall But when he figured out that I wanted at least some form of custody of my kids, dear God... That back tooth that's missing? Yeah. Those pictures of me with a black eye that Rodrigue used to say were because of illegal boxing rings or whatever other lie he pulled out of his ass? Yeah. __See Anza, I'm not even putting this in a letter because of how ugly things got. I had a lot of trouble dealing with those fights because of what I'd seen in Europe during the war. Steve said that he spent as much time awake to get me to stop screaming than he did for his two kids put together. _

_So I'm glad that Rodrigue and co got me to back down because the man would probably have ended up throwing my body in a ditch. But I missed a lot of my kids' milestones. I saw school plays, Mia's dance recitals, kindergarten graduations and soccer games, sure. But did I ever get to watch them learn to read? No. Did I get to teach them Spanish? No. (On the upside, Carmen did it). Did I get to force vegetables down their throats? Replace fallen teeth with pennies? Watch them unwrap Christmas presents? Nope. _

_So long story short, if you think that you should fight for a cause... Assume that you should and go for it._

_Sammy _


	53. 1961

**Disclaimer: me no own Sammy and Hazel and Leo and Esperanza and that's about it.**

* * *

**March 7th 1961**

Sammy was planning on sleeping for nineteen hours straight so needless to say the dog on his bed was disappointing.

The dog starred at him. He didn't move an inch, just starred. Sammy starred right back.

"Rodrigue," he called.

"What?" His roommate called.

"We don't have a dog," Sammy said. "What the hell is that thing on my bed?"

Rodrigue wandered out of the kitchen and peered into his room. "Oh, that's Thor."

"Thor," Sammy said. "Fantastic. Did he fall from the sky?"

"So you do know your mythology," Rodrigue smiled.

"No, I just don't understand why there's a dog on my bed." Sammy said.

"I found him," Rodrigue said.

"You found him?" Sammy said.

"Yeah. Someone dumped him downtown; he was stuck in a garbage bag. Pretty horrible if you ask me. I reckon he would've suffocated."

Sammy looked back at Thor. The dog was mostly black and grey, with a pale tummy. The dog looked like a greyhound but its fur was longer and his ears were different. One of them was bitten off. Whatever it was, the dog was definitely a mutt.

"Okay, sure. But… why is it here?" Sammy asked.

"Couldn't leave it in the garbage bag, could I?"

"No. But bringing it to the pound may have been a good idea? Maybe someone's looking for him."

"Pounds are horrible. Besides, once you abandon your dog battered and in a garbage bag- you don't have the right to go get them back." Rodrigue said.

"Fair enough," Sammy said. "So what are you going to do with it?"

"Keep it."

"_What? _ See, this is why I'm the one who leaves early if there's a meeting somewhere- you always end up doing stupid stuff like getting a dog."

"Bro, I named him. Besides, he's a beaut. No turning back now."

"You have a dog now? Oh, c'mon, we live in an apartment and that thing's huge."

"It's not a thing, it's a dog." Rodrigue said. "There's that little concrete patch outside it can pee on. We can tie him up during the day so he doesn't go adn destroy everything. Besides, we're allowed to have animals in the building."

"It's _huge," _Sammy said. "It'll destroy everything, pee on the remains, and it might eat a kid. Then the ex-in-laws will _definitely _hire an assassin."

"Thor's not like that," Rodrigue insisted. "He's a softie. Didn't growl at me, didn't growl at you. See? He likes us."

The dog's tail was wagging.

Sammy wanted to shake his shoulders. Never had Rodrigue stood up for another living being with that kind of care, Beca excluded.

"We can't keep a dog." Sammy said.

"I let you have three kids," Rodrigue said. "Why would I _not _be able to have a dog?"

* * *

_Dear Anza,_

_I am sorry._

_But I couldn't disagree with that logic._

_Sammy_


	54. 1962

**Disclaimer: me no own Sammy and Hazel and Leo and Esperanza and that's about it.**

* * *

**December 25th 1962**

Maria and Javier were running around the backyard in their pyjamas. Thor was giving chase or getting chased depending on when you looked- except, as Rodrigue had said, the dog was a big softie and he never hurt the kids. He knocked them over every now and then fault of not knowing his own strength… but he was mostly cool.

"And you're sure the dog doesn't got rabies or such?" Beca said.

"Yeah Beca," Rodrigue said. "It's seen a vet, like, three times. It's got all of its shots."

"So you know what breed it is?"

"The guy called it a lurcher. Mix between a greyhound and something else. Probably a terrier for Thor."

"But terriers are so small…" Steve said. "How does that work?"

"Use your imagination?" Sammy suggested.

Beca slapped him in the shoulder.

Steve wondered off at some point and came back holding three water guns.

"No," Beca said.

"Oh yes," Steve said. "Sammy? Rodrigue?"

They each took a water gun (as uncles it was their job). Beca just leaned in the doorway and watched as they started shooting on the kids. Maria and Javier squealed and Thor started barking and jumping around like a maniac, bouncing off the fence and running in circles. Maria and Javier tried to duck behind the shed but as three fully grown adults, they managed to corner them. Somehow the kids got out and started finding other places to duck. They settled on behind their mother.

"Steve Valdez don't you-" She shrieked and laughed at the same time when Steve nailed her on the stomach.

"You aren't eating tonight," she said.

"I think your face was worth it," Steve grinned. His smile made Beca smiled and for some reason Sammy was smiling too. He had no business in his brother's relationships, but he was happy for Steve. See, he'd done something right.

The two kids had gone on the move again after seeing that even their mother wasn't sacred.

Sammy gave chase, and soon Steve and Rodrigue were with him too. It didn't take long for the water guns to run out, and so they went back to sit on the patio porch. Maria and Javier were drawing on the fence with chalk, and Thor had decided to go dig in the sandbox again.

"Greyhounds are hunters," Rodrigue said.

"He's not hunting he's dig- AH!" Steve screamed.

Beca was standing behind them holding a pitcher of water. Sammy tripped over himself trying to back off.

"You can eat again," she said.

Maria and Javier were killing themselves.

Thank God Steve had earned that privilege back because Beca's food was like godsend. The kids gobbled it up and it would be a lie to say that the others didn't too- they were just slightly classier about it. Sammy and Rodrigue weren't really used to quality food, so it was super fantastic.

Javier was pretty new with cutlery so his face got more food than his mouth did. Beca or Steve had to stop eating and wash him off every few minutes- thus creating a small pile of used napkins. After supper the kids went in the living room to play amongst the ripped-up wrapping paper that had yet to be picked up. Rodrigue and Beca played chess, and Steve and Sammy played cards with a short intermission when Maria asked Steve for a New Orleans story. Then they played some more until Javier yawned, Beca started mentioning bedtime and Maria clamoured for a story.

The two kids argued over what book to read and when they finally did, Steve sat down with them in the wrapping paper. He had a kid on each lap as he read out loud, making voices to match the characters.

It made Sammy sad.

He loved Christmas, he really did. But it was on days like these that he really felt like the worst father ever. It felt so wrong to spend an eternity picking a present, wrapping it up so it looked at least a bit like presents did in the movies, and then dropping them off at a house during the day and never seeing his kids open them...

He wished that he, like Steve, was currently telling a story- that he could have Mia sitting on one lap, Felipe on the other, and Gabriel on piggy-back (this was how Sammy usually transported all the kids at once). That he could solve little spats about who got to play with which toy and play jokes on them and clean up after them and tell them stories and watch their giddy it's-Christmas-let's-be-happy faces last through the entire day. His memory plunged back to all the little things- Felipe's twitches and how to tell if they were getting worst or better or just out of excitement, Gabriel's attitude and how to manoeuvre around it and make him listen to sense, Mia's bossiness when you played make-believe with her... The way each of them giggled, how the twins ganged up against their little sister all the time, Felipe's habit to pick at his food forever and separate it all before he ate it, the contrast between the boys, how Mia danced around instead of walking…

Yeah. He missed them.

Steve touched his arm after Beca walked the kids upstairs.

"It's not that late," he said. "And we have a phone…"

Sammy smiled.


	55. 1965

**Hi guys! I'm going off on vacation for two weeks. This makes things interesting for two reasons.**

**1) My cousins and I will all be in the same city**

**2) My computer access isn't guaranteed and actually not looking very good. Sooo... The plan is that for this story and To Build a Life I'll have some pre-reviewed chapters in stock so that I can possibly post them from my phone. If that doesn't work... well, you guys wait two weeks for your next update which I think (and hope) will kill nobody.**

**Anyways, enjoy this chapter!**

**Disclaimer: me no own Sammy and Hazel and Leo and Esperanza and that's about it.**

* * *

**February 12th 1965**

"What are you doing, dad?" Gabriel asked.

Sammy looked up from the car he was working on.

"I'm removing a stereo," Sammy said.

"Why?" Gab frowned.

"It was installed by the owner, not by the company," Sammy said. "And what happens then is that people tap into circuits that are already there."

"But those circuits are there for a reason," Gabriel said.

"Exactly," Sammy nodded. "Ergo power is taken away from another part of the car. In this case, the headlights are malfunctioning."

"So you just restore the circuit?" Gabriel said.

"Pretty much," Sammy nodded. "Install the stereo properly if they want it."

Gabriel nodded.

"I can show you more after you finish your homework, okay kid?"

"Dad," Gab whined.

"You have two numbers left, I know you hate math but you can do this." Sammy said. "Go."

Felipe soon wandered in and Sammy got to explain the whole thing again.

"Isn't there some kind of warning not to mess around with your car's system?" Felipe frowned.

"Yeah, it's called common sense. Sadly not everybody's checked on that," Sammy said.


	56. 1965, May

**Disclaimer: me no own Sammy and Hazel and Leo and Esperanza and that's about it.**

* * *

**May 27th 1965**

Sammy walked by the table and he stopped and looked at Gabriel who was staring at his math homework, which he'd completed half of in one sitting. That was impressive, usually he was too busy looking at this or that or maybe even that to focus.

"Hey," Sammy said.

Gab looked up and Sammy handed him the paint can he was holding.

"The car parked on the last spot to the left needs a paint job touch up on the hood," Sammy said. "Paint's out in the office, we ordered a brand new pot for it. Want to go take care of it?"

Gab smiled.

* * *

_Dear Anza_

_The number one thing that people say when they hear where I work? "It's family-run? Wow, that's so cool! My kids would _hate _to do my job!"_

_To which there are four things to reply even though I usually don't._

_1) Technically we're not family owned and operated because our one sister is a nun ergo Rodrigue hasn't been able to marry into the family._

_2) It's actually pretty awkward to pay your kids for something. Like, up until they were an employee at Siggy's that happened with board and food and transport._

_3) It wasn't planned that way, it just happened because_

_4) I taught my kids what I loved and I think that to a certain degree, they felt that passion whereas you my friend are an accountant who hates their job._

_No but seriously Anza, I am convinced that his has phenomenal impact on everything. Gab and Felipe got into the whole mechanics thing because they dropped by Siggy's after school, because they were surrounded by people that they could ask questions to, because they liked what they saw in terms of work environment and clientele... And what happened after that? Well, Jay got into mechanics. Adam got into it. You certainly got into mechanics. Thahn got into mechanics._

_So here's my advice to you: teach Leo what you love. That way he'll see what being in love with what you do is like, and he'll fall in love with something too. It doesn't have to be mechanics though by this point I think that we Valdez' have merged it into our DNA. But teach him how to love what he does and he'll be much happier than he would be otherwise._

_Sammy_


	57. 1966

**March 6****th**** 1966**

"And that," Steve concluded, "Is how you replace an oxygen sensor."

The boys nodded and Rodrigue walked out of the office.

"Boys, your mom wants you home. Supper's on the table," he reported.

"It's Sheppard's pie night," Gab winced. "We don't _want _to go home."

"Your sister loves meat Sheppard's pie," Sammy said prodding his son in the back. "And your mother makes it really well. There is worst Sheppard's pie to be had."

"That's like telling a guy who got run over by a car that he could have been smashed by a train." Felipe said.

Gab pointed to him, nodding frantically.

"Yeah, yeah, funny boy," Sammy said pushing Felipe's head forwards. "Seriously though, we don't want any trouble. I'll see you all tomorrow."

"Kay," Felipe said. "Bye dad."

"Later dad," Gab said. They grabbed their bags on their ways out.

"They're getting pretty interested in stuff," Steve said poking Sammy in the elbow.

"I know," Sammy said. "I was thinking of taking them in for the summer."

"I'm cool with that." Steve said.

"Are we paying them?" Rodrigue asked.

"Couple of bucks a week each, and they're good." Steve shrugged. "It doesn't matter."

"Sounds good." Rodrigue said.

Sammy grinned. "I'll tell them tomorrow."

"Are you going to check with Carmen?"

"No." Sammy said.

"Are you sure that that's a good idea?"

"Yes. The boys are fourteen, come on." Sammy said. "It's a summer job."

* * *

_Dear Anza,_

_So here's to say something important: work with good people. That way, you throw out an idea and then a few minutes later everyone is on the same page. It's important, and not always easy to find those people, and of course not everything will always happen smoothly._

_But you know what Anza: it's worth it. I wouldn't have wanted to run Siggy's with anybody other than Rodrigue. _

_Sammy_


	58. 1966, November

**November 6****th**** 1966 **

Sammy watched a client go off with their car before heading back to Siggy's. He spotted two backpacks by the door and at first he assumed that the twins were back, but then he realised that one of the backpack's had purple ribbons on the straps. Mia? No, she wasn't in high school yet, her school finished later… Besides, she liked pink better than green.

He carried on and spotted Felipe and a young girl with black hair cut short. They were studying a book.

"Hey," he said. Felipe looked up, and grinned sheepishly. Sammy gave him a look that made him blush.

"MJ, this is my father," he said getting around to introductions. "Dad, this is Maria José. From school."

"Pleased to meet you, sir," she said kindly.

"Pleased to meet you too," Sammy said. It took everything that he had not to cave in and smile like an idiot. "So, what are you working on?"

"English," Maria José said.

"Yeah, she's really good at English. Our teacher paired us up for a project on _To Kill a Mockingbird_. I'm learning a lot." Felipe said.

"Oh I bet," Sammy replied.

Felipe shot him the look of death.

* * *

_Dear Anza,_

_Don't judge me or call me cruel. You will do this exact same thing to the first girl that your son brings home. I'll try to enlighten you on why it feels so good to do that… But nothing comes up. It just does. You'll see._

_Love,_

_Sammy_


	59. 1967

**Hi! I feel like a jerk for not posting sooner and then running off to girl guide camp for another week but OH WELL ENJOY!**

* * *

**March 7****th**** 1967**

"Mr Valdez?"

Sammy and Steve both turned around at once and were totally disoriented until they localised Maria José, who was standing at the door.

"MJ," Sammy said. "Hi."

"Hello," she said smiling. She was hugging books to her chest. "Umm, Felipe told me to meet him here after school? I had a meeting with the student council."

"Oh, yeah, he had to go pick something up at his mother's. Come in, he shouldn't be long." Sammy said. "Are you working on another project?"

"Yes," she smiled. "Well, this isn't for school. He's helping me research for an upcoming debate."

"Oh," Sammy said. "You're on the debate team?"

"Yeah," Mari said smiling. "I'm a little nervous for the next round, but Felipe's really good at this."

"Is he?" Sammy said.

MJ smiled and nodded. "He doesn't like talking much, but he really is smart. He has good ideas, and he thinks a lot."

"You should let his teachers know," Sammy grumbled. "You can set up camp at one of the work tables. They're all pretty dirty, just chuck everything on the ground."

"Thank you Mr Valdez," she said politely.

"Sammy. Just call me Sammy."

* * *

Later on, Felipe was sweeping the floor and Sammy went to go talk to him.

"Helping MJ with her debates," he said.

"Shut up, Dad." Felipe said shaking his head.

"I'm not teasing you," Sammy said putting his hands in her air. "I'm actually really proud of you."

"Yeah?" Felipe frowned.

"Yeah," Sammy said. "She told me that you were good at what you did."

Felipe looked down. "She sees too much good in me."

"Or maybe you don't see enough," Sammy pointed out. "She's an honest girl, she wouldn't lie. She thinks you're a good person."

"Fine, let me rephrase that," Felipe said. "She sees good in me where there's only a little bit."

"Do you see good in her?" Sammy asked.

Felipe looked up and met his eyes for the first time. He nodded.

"Then tell her," Sammy said. "She likes you too."

* * *

_Dear Anza,_

_It is perfectly acceptable to ship real people together, just as it is perfectly acceptable to smack your kid in the back of the head so that he wakes up and sees the world around him._

_No but seriously; Felipe was never a confident boy. Partially because it's a pathological shyness, and partially because he fell into the habit of letting Gab speak for the pair of them, thus becoming 'Gab's brother' instead of 'Felipe'. You may have to deal with that on Leo's part- I don't know. If you do, don't be afraid to have other people show him what he's worth. Felipe changed a lot after he and Maria José started going out._

_Anyways, he ended up joining the debate team the year after that and he was in it until he graduated. He was pretty good at it too, she was right. He started making more jokes, he got more chatty and he was more openly excited about more things. It was pretty cool._

_Anza, I want you to remember something else: love is a good thing. You've been burned, I've been burned, even your father has been burned (but I'm going to do him a favour and keep all that information and all those juicy ex-girlfriend stories to myself during the course of these letters). Most people have, actually. But it is a beautiful thing at its core; it's just that people love each other the wrong way. So really the problem isn't love, it is people. I hope you find the right person one day, Anza. I think that everybody does in their lifetime, but some don't react quickly enough and let said person go. So I hope that you react accordingly too._

_Have a good one,_

_Sammy _


	60. 1967, November

**Hi! I feel like a jerk for not posting sooner and then running off to girl guide camp for another week but OH WELL ENJOY!**

* * *

**November 23rd 1967**

"Smells good Beca," Rodrigue said.

"Don't humour me, I'm a horrible cook." Beca said pulling off her oven mitts and putting them down on the corner of the table.

"We'll dig in anyways Beca, you're too hard on yourself," Steve said leaning over to her chair and kissing her.

"Ewe. Not at the table." Javier, nine years old and proudly in his cootie phase, declared.

"I completely agree," Rodrigue nodded.

"Are we going to do the same thing as every year?" Javier asked excitedly, ego blown out of proportion by his uncle's compliment.

"Of course Jay, if you can please sit properly," Beca said. "Maria, would you like to start?"

Maria nodded. "I'm thankful for our house and my parents."

"Not your brother?" Steve asked.

"What positive thing is there about having a brother?" Sammy asked.

"Less leftovers at Thanksgiving," Steve said.

"That's not a good thing."

"Boys," Beca called, cocking an eyebrow. They shut up. "Rodrigue, your turn."

"I'm thankful for my sister, my brother-in-law, my nieces, my nephews. And Sammy, I don't know what in the world you are."

"Better than you," Sammy said.

"I'm thankful that someone is feeding me Thanksgiving dinner, really appreciate it Beca. Much nicer than pizza. Also I am thankful for the free delivery Domino's for the times that I can't mooch off a meal here." Rodrigue said. "Okay I'm done being thankful: your turn, little man."

Javier thought about what he was going to say for a second.

"I'm thankful for all the good movies that are coming out, and the food on the table and the fact that Mrs. Black didn't give us any homework this weekend. Your turn, mommy."

"I'm thankful for my beautiful children and the job that I have to keep a roof over their heads, my handsome husband-"

"You have two of them?" Sammy said.

"Oh, you meant Steve. Nah, I don't see it." Rodrigue said.

Maria and Javier laughed, and Rodrigue nearly peed himself. Beca shot him a look.

"Maybe one day I'll be thankful for my in-laws too," Beca said.

"She got you there Sammy, sit down and shut up." Steve said.

Sammy was about to protest that they _did _have a sister who could have been the source of that comment.

"Your turn Steve," Beca said.

"I'm thankful for family, food and the fact that there isn't a war going on anymore," Steve said. "Also that after Sammy says whatever it is he has to say we can eat. Your turn bro."

Sammy looked at the people sitting around this table. "I'm thankful that you think I'm funny. I'm thankful that you are all funny, that you're all here. I am also thankful that the world is a good place."

"That was sweet," Beca said. "Rub-a-dub-dub, thank God for the grub- dig in folks."


	61. 1967, December

**So there is no good reason for me not to have posted since, like, the Stone Age... I was going to add a chapter that was rather rough in here, but I had some trouble doing research, so then I did the mature thing and stalled. **Special spoiler because I'm guilty** It's about Carmen. Anyways, I hope that you enjoy the chapter!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sammy Valdez.**

* * *

**December 17th 1967**

"Is one of you up for a shift tonight?" Sammy asked the twins. They both looked up from the homework they were finishing.

"No," Gabriel said.

"Why not?" Sammy asked.

"There's a school dance," Felipe said. "I'm going with MJ."

"Alright, what about you?" Sammy asked Gab.

"Dad, he said it," Gab said. "School dance."

"Who the hell are you going with? Your brother and his girlfriend?" Sammy said, pretty sure that Gab should work instead of doing that.

"You don't know about Beth?" Felipe said with the biggest grin on his face.

"Shut your mouth or I kill you in your sleep tonight." Gab sad.

"Who's Beth?" Sammy asked.

"A girl at school," Gab asked. "One of MJ's friends, she introduced us. She's… Yeah, we're going to the dance together."

"That's good to know," Sammy said. He was trying not to match Felipe's stupid grin, and he swallowed back a few bad comments. He knew that Gab's last girlfriend had been less than ideal. "Alright then, never mind, I'll make Steve do it."


	62. 1967, December 21

**Two-hundred reviews to the story! *Gasp* Thank you so much for all the TLC and enthusiasm that you guys generate and send my way. Enjoy this chapter!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sammy Valdez.**

* * *

**December 21st 1967**

"Valdez," Rodrigue called. Sammy looked over his shoulder.

"What?"

"Your kid's making out with someone in the office," Rodrigue said.

Sammy grinned. "Really?"

"Oh yeah. Door's wide open. It's some pretty classy stuff. I figured that you spawned him and clearly he inherits your sense of romance, so I'd let you break it up."

"Geez that's generous."

He stood at the door. They were both sitting on the desk, and Gab had his arms looped around her and frowned for a minute, wondering what he should do. He resulted to clearing his throat loudly.

They both jumped out of their skins and twisted around to spot him.

"Okay, so you two have two options. Wait, first, what's your name?" Sammy asked.

The girl looked stunned. Her hair was all corkscrew curls, tumbling down her back.

"Elisabeth," she said.

Beth from the dance? Well that had escalated quickly.

"Okay, nice to meet you Elisabeth- anyways, back to your two choices," Sammy said. "One, I could just grin slyly at you and make this uncomfortable for everyone. Two, I could do the normal parent thing and yell my throat raw and kick both of you out of here and I could contemplate disowning you, Gab. Now they sound equally fun to me, although the second would probably take more energy, so I'm letting you decide which is better."

"Dad," Gab hissed.

"Can I suggest a third option?" Elisabeth asked.

Sammy shrugged. "Don't see why not."

"I could shake your hand and introduce myself properly," she said.

Sammy nodded. "I like it. Hello, I'm Gab's father, you can call me Sammy."

"My name's Elisabeth," she said with a smile. "It's nice to meet you, sir."

"And it's nice to meet you too Elisabeth."

Gab glared at him.

"Well, don't let me interrupt," Sammy said. "I'll just let myself out."

He walked out, closing the door behind him knowing that they were both too embarrassed to even contemplate sucking faces, and Rodrigue shook his head.

"You, my friend, are a bastard." He said as they walked back to their respective work places.

"Kid left the door open," Sammy said. "Really, he was asking for it."

* * *

_Dear Anza,_

_As if the memory of this isn't fun enough to bring up on its own when I needed something from your Dad, you managed to make it better at the tender age of five. _

_You asked your parents how they met because you'd picked that up from a movie somewhere, and they said something very basic about being high school sweethearts. I found this unacceptable and, naturally, hopped in to explain how their first kiss had actually happened. Upon which you glared at your parents, clucked your tongue and said _"You could have least made it romantic". _Literally, you out of all people said this to your parents. You were five. It was the best. I think that Rodrigue peed himself. _

_Sometimes I wished that you'd never grown up, because back then you were only worried about your parents being romantic and whether you were going to be romantic. But sometimes I look at who you grew up into and I wouldn't change it for the world. _

_Love, love, love,_

_Your grandfather_


	63. 1968

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sammy or Esperanza Valdez.**

* * *

**July 3rd 1968**

"Whatever you did to your shoulder, you did it well." Rodrigue said.

"You don't have to tell me that," Steve said wincing.

"Do you want to just go home?" Sammy suggested.

"Nah, I can handle the bills. Someone can do the paperwork voluntarily for once." Steve said.

"Are you sick?" Sammy frowned. It may have been more than twenty years since he'd lived with Steve, but he knew when his brother wasn't doing well. It was inbred in his mind.

"I told you, it's just my arm."

"You look weird. Pale and shit," Rodrigue said.

"Did you catch the flu or something from the kids? Fever? That stuff's running around at this time of the year." Sammy said (quite professionally, he may add, although even Mia was out of the snot-exchanging phase of childhood).

"No, they're healthy. I'm fine." Steve said. He was in cold sweat.

Rodrigue and Sammy looked at each other. They were both thinking the same thing: _not_.

"Are you sure? Don't lie to me." Sammy said.

"Yeah, yeah," Steve said. "I'll be in the back. Ya'll can keep working."

Sammy tried to find a radio station that came with less static, failed, and had just slid under a car to change its oil when he heard what sounded like an entire table flipping. He slid right back out.

"Steve," he called getting to his feet. It was an instinct, he didn't even have to wonder what was wrong. His gut felt upside down and he just _knew _that something was wrong with his brother. "Steve!"

Steve was curled up on the floor in a pile of tools and papers next to a flipped over table, his face twisted in pain. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest.

"Steve," he said his heartbeat increasing. Rodrigue got freaked and came too.

"Oh God," Steve said. "Oh God…"

"Steve, what's going on?" Sammy said.

"I can't…" Steve swore in pain. It took _that _long to get the pieces together.

"Rodrigue, call an ambulance," Sammy called out. "Come on Steve, sit up. Come on, Steve, try."

His mind had stopped working. It was numb and hyperactive, both at the same time.

Steve threw up and Sammy didn't even wince, he just pulled his brother to a sitting-up position and propped him up against a table leg.

"Alright, you've got this," Sammy said. "Keep breathing."

"Sammy no…" Steve sounded nine years old again, scared and shivering on the night that Dad had left with a screams and shouts and the sound of flesh hitting flesh from downstairs.

"Yes, come on," Sammy said.

His eyes were hazy.

"Stay with me, man," Sammy said. "You're okay. Stay with me. Keep breathing, that's the important bit."

"What's going on?" Steve said. He could barely talk.

"I don't know, but the paramedics will," Sammy said. "You've got to wait until they get here to find out, kay? If you don't wait, you suck Stevie, stay right here- don't you dare not do that exact same thing..."

Steve's eyebrows were still furrowed and angry when he nodded.

It took five minutes for the ambulance to get there. Five minutes too much, Steve looked passed out. Sammy climbed in after Steve and told Rodrigue to call Beca before they drove off to the hospital.

* * *

_Dear Anza,_

_So I'm going to explain this to you on a level that I know 100% for sure that you will understand. You and I have semi-similar childhoods, come to think about it. _

_You took care of Rosa when you were small, and you've always taken care of her, watched over her, and slipped into the role of her guardian angel. I did that with Steve. And it isn't easy being the older sibling, is it? Especially when things aren't fantastic at home for reasons x, y, z or all three._

_I come from a much bigger family. I had Lola, Steve, Jeanette, Mary and Lois- and I admit to being the big bad protective brother. I lost three of them in a car accident, and here I was watching another have a heart attack. My only brother, the one who had children and a wife now, having a heart attack. That's actually the last thing he said in the ambulance, before they shoved the oxygen mask on and he lost it for good. He said 'God not me not now, they're too young'. Back in the days Anza, a heart attack was an even bigger deal than it is now. In the 60's, having a heart attack was _bad; e_specially when the patient had been dragging it around, toughing out the symptoms for a heart attack because he didn't want to worry anybody._

_Imagine losing Rosa. Horrible, right? You don't just lose this productive, adult member of society who has their own life. You lose the two year old who couldn't tie their shoelaces, the four year old who scratched their knee because they tried to ride your bigger bike, the six year old learning how to read, the eleven year old who kissed some other fifth grader on the playground… You lose a life. You lose something that you watched and cared about for a very long time. Someone that built themselves up without expecting to be knocked down._

_Steve passed out sometime during the ride there and I tried really hard not to get in the paramedics way, but I wanted to slap him across the cheek and go _"Wake up, you have a shitload to live for." _I wanted to kick him in the shins and say '_you're right man, God can't take you right now- your kids are twelve and ten years old. They could be younger, but they're not old enough to lose you'. _I wanted to punch him in the throat and be like '_Steve, you're married to the only girl you ever had to date in your entire life'. _Maybe part of me even wanted to be selfish- kick him in the nuts and go: _'Steve, it's just you and me and I've got to take care of you- don't you dare die'. _Of course it wasn't his choice what happened next, but I was internalising panic here. _

_I know that you argue with her on a weekly basis and that she isn't super happy with you right now because of Leo and Hank, et cetera, et cetera. But at the end of the day you love Rosa. Now imagine starting every day without Rosa because she's gone forever to this ambiguous location (maybe) from which she might be watching you (perhaps). _

_Make those feelings real and you about have the exact reason why I hate July. One more month I can have grudges against, eh? _

_Love,_

_Your _abuelo,


	64. 1968, July

**FIFTY DOLLAHS TO THE PERSON WHO REALISED THAT WHEN GAIA SAID THAT SAMMY HAD HAD A HEART ATTACK IN THE 60'S, SHE MEANT SAMMY!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sammy or Esperanza Valdez.**

* * *

**July 7th 1969**

Beca's chin was set decidedly, tough as if she was expecting to have to put up a fight at any time. She held Maria's hand in her left, Javier's in her right as they watched the grave diggers do their work.

Mia snuggled up against Sammy's leg and he put his arm around her. She may be twelve years old, but she was scared out of her mind and had gone back to being six years old and scared of the shadows dancing on her walls. The boys were with Carmen, trying to be macho and suave. MJ was at Felipe's arm, holding his hand and offering all the support she could give, which was a lot.

He kissed the top of Mia's head.

"It's like you only have four days to deal with the fact that someone died and then they just punch you in the gut again and bring you back to square one," Mia said softly.

Sammy picked her up. She was too tall for it, sure. But she buried her face in his neck and stayed there.


	65. 1968, July 20

**July 20th 1968**

Rodrigue hung up the sign on the wall. It was a stupid municipal sign with bright colours and cheesy slogans and steps on 'How to React to a Heart Attack'.

He stepped back from his handy work and they looked at the sign for a while, even if they knew that they wouldn't need it themselves. They'd always spot it now, they'd always be scared.

"Okay," Rodrigue said. "Sammy, I know he was your brother but… He wouldn't want us to keep being this sluggish."

"You're right," Sammy said. "He wouldn't have, and it's not helping anyone in any way."

They were both quiet for a while. Sammy was the one who said it.

"Okay, enough is enough. Business as usual."

* * *

_Dear Anza,_

_I never traveled much and nor did you. But maybe one day you'll go to the Congo or something (don't go to Congo Anza, if you're going to go somewhere pick a place which is politically stable, just do me a favour) and get what I mean. Anyways, people who travel talk about jet lag- Lan does all the time. It's like you feel like the entire world is happening at the wrong time, like you're behind on everything. That's how I felt. Everything was pretty and beautiful and sunny- that had had to happen _before _Steve had the heart attack. I read the newspaper and went 'woop-dee-doo none of this matters'. _

_That's what it feels like to lose someone, Anza. Like being jetlagged- except you against the world. It's a horrible feeling, I've got to say. I felt like I was behind on everything without Steve, like somehow he helped me keep up. I felt the same way when Mom and the girls died._

_But what's more, Anza, when I lost Steve I felt like I lost my entire childhood. I grew up in a world that didn't exist anymore- segregation, gone. World Wars, the world was trying to heal. My favourite bands? All dead. Hazel's favourite bands? Them too- though she tended to go for solo artists. Hazel? Dead. I felt like New Orleans had died Anza. Think of Houston as your New Orleans. It's part of you, isn't it? You couldn't cut it out with a scalpel and twenty PhD's. It takes a bitch like life to do it._

_Sammy_


End file.
